I Never Told You
by Momma-Ran
Summary: <html><head></head>Newt's attempted suicide and Minho's aid in his recovery. The two explore their relationship and the Gladers as a whole form tighter bonds. Eventually this might have content from Scorch Trials, Death Cure, and Fever Code. We've advanced to an M rating. Woohoo!</html>
1. Chapter 1

**Authors Note 1: The song the title is based off of is _I never told you _by _Colbie Caillat_. Give it a listen before (or during) reading. :) It will become more relevant in future chapters. **

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><p>They say if you get lazy then you get sad. You get sad, you start giving up. That's all there is to it.<p>

So they say.

See, there's only one problem with that.

I'm not lazy.

I run hundreds of miles a week, from sunup to sundown. I memorize twists and turns and any abnormalities in the Maze. Its not as easy as it sounds because every night the Maze changes. When I'm done running for the day, I go to the Map room and write it all down before I forget. Then we analyze what we've come up with for the day. After the work is done, I eat dinner and take a dip in the stream to wash all that sweat and grime off. Finally, hours after darkness has fallen, I pull out my blanket and fall asleep under the stars.

The next morning I wake up, pack my gear, and head back into the Maze. The routine stays the same.

So I'm not lazy. There isn't a lazy bone in my body. There isn't a second that my mind isn't racing as fast as my feet.

Despite all of this, I'm getting sad. I'm giving up.

I can feel it in my bones like a sickness taken hold. It drags me down like its a physical restraint. I can barely even summon the will to open my eyes, let alone be productive. Lately I haven't even been running my section of the Maze. I've been stumbling through it like I've had too much of Frypan's whiskey. There isn't a reason to run the Maze anymore; I remember all of the variations. See, they change in a pattern. All I have to do is remember the pattern of the Maze for the day and write it down when I get back.

Believe me, I know I'm not really contributing to anything. I know its probably making my situation worse.

If I don't do something to help myself then I'm really going to regret it. After weeks of trying different things, I think I've even come up with the perfect solution to my problem.

I'm going to kill myself.

Like I said; when you get sad, you start giving up.

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><p>Newt puts two apples in his pack and a small water bottle. He adds the paper and pencil in another pocket. His knife goes in its special pocket in his backpack. Another one, much longer, goes on his belt. Newt checks to make sure his trainers are tied tightly. The boy runs a hand through his blond hair and plasters a smile on his face. At least, he hopes its a smile. It could be a grimace. Ready to go, Newt sets out for the West Door.<p>

Some of the other Runners wave at him as they go to their respective Doors. He waves back and flashes them wide smiles that hurt his face. Walking across the grassy field with the sun rising at his back, it feels like this is a dream. Newt has big plans for today. Plans that will change everything.

A rough slap on the back nearly has Newt falling flat on his face. He glares at the perpetrator; Minho. The boy has an olive complexion and ink black hair. "What was that for, shuck-face?"

Minho's smile falters briefly. Then it returns in full force. "C'mon, Newt, you aren't going soft on me are you?" Minho's dark brown eyes are shining with laughter.

Newt alters course slightly so that he bumps his shoulder against Minho's. "Of course not."

Minho's grin widens. "Good, because I like my boys hard." Without waiting to see Newt's reaction, the noirette breaks into a run. His laughter can be heard even as he crosses the Doors.

Despite himself, Newt can't keep the smile off his face. He allows his mind to drift in the direction of sexual things. Its been a year since they were put in the Maze and some of the other boys have already found partners. Coupling is bound to happen when you put a bunch of teenage boys in a box for extended periods of time. The life or death aspect merely means that their bonds are stronger and that flings are rare. Entertaining the idea of him and his Keeper keeps the smile on his face for a few seconds more.

The Doors are huge, one hundred and twenty feet above Newt's head. They are wide open now, leading to a corridor that is the beginning of the Maze. Thick ivy grows half way up the walls. Not for the first time, Newt has cursed that it doesn't grow all the way to the top. If it did, they could climb it to freedom. A beetle blade watches him with its single red camera eye. It gives the blond boy the creeps. "Enjoy the show, shuckfaces." With a quiet sigh, Newt steps across the threshold. His pace slowly increases until he is running through through the Maze. Left, left, right, left, right. The Runner could do this in his sleep.

This time is different. A tingle of anticipation dances up and down his spine. None of the slowness from the past few weeks is plaguing him; Newt speeds through the Maze without bothering to cut ivy or slow for corners. Getting back won't be a problem. He comes to a spot where the ivy grows a little higher than on the other walls. Not much higher, of course, probably only a few feet. In Newt's case every foot counts. Slowing to a stop, Newt slides off his pack. He removes the knife from his belt and lets it clatter to the ground.

Taking a deep breath helps to calm the storm in his mind. This is going to make everyone angry but Newt feels like its something he has to do. For the first time in forever, the Runner feels something like joy. He takes a vine of ivy in his hand. The leaves tickle his wrists. By the time Newt reaches the halfway point the sun is coming up over the walls of the Maze. Climbing is slow going, mostly because he doesn't want to risk a fall too soon.

Finally he reaches the top of the ivy. Hanging on is difficult as the vines are thinner. Then Newt laughs out loud to himself. "It doesn't bloody matter." With that said, Newt sends out a silent plea that things will be good for him. His grip loosens briefly. "Please don't be too upset about it. Please." Newt bunches his muscles then pushes off the wall with both hands and feet. He finally feels no fear.

His body twists mid-air so he's falling sideways. The fall is surprisingly short. On impact, Newt feels the bone in his leg shatter. For a brief second it feels like fire is tearing through his limb. Then his head hits the stone ground and he blacks out.

When Newt wakes he feels unusually cold. Its the first time he can remember being cold in the Maze. And it seems like he's laying in a puddle of drool. He raises a hand and whimpers as his body protests the movement with spasms of pain. Gently he touches his head and hisses through his teeth. His head is throbbing in time with his heart. For that matter, so is his leg. Every breath hurts. As his memories slowly return, Newt feels a tidal wave of depression.

He failed.

The blond had come out here and climbed the wall in the hopes of committing suicide. To him, dying is the only way out of the Maze. Jumping seemed like the best option so that the Gladers wouldn't find his body. One day he would be there, the next he wouldn't. He has no doubt that a Griever would have come to pick up his corpse before dawn.

Newt doesn't bother to wipe the tears that run down his face. There isn't a point. He lays in a puddle of drool that he is beginning to suspect isn't actually drool. Its far too warm and thick; not to mention the coppery smell. His light eyes glance up once to check the position of the sun; its directly overhead. He's lost more blood than he thought if he's feeling cold with the sun beating down on him. After that Newt closes his eyes and hopes he blacks out again.

Its hours before Newt decides to move. The pain in his leg is steadily getting harder to ignore. He can feel the strength draining out of him. Not to mention his thirst is going to drive him crazy. If he isn't going to bleed out then he might as well try to survive. Besides, he doesn't want the Grievers to get him while he's alive. That is not the way the blond wants to die.

Decision made, Newt tests his weight on his hands. When his arms don't give out, the Runner puts a little more weight on them. Then a little more. Slowly he raises himself into a half-sitting position. His leg hurts so much that its making him dizzy and nauseous. The blood loss isn't helping matters. Taking shallow breathes, blue eyes look around for his pack. Its by the wall, roughly three feet away. He swallows as he wonders how he's going to get over there.

Steeling himself, Newt finally rests his eyes on his injured leg. Its a nasty sight. From his trainers to his thigh, Newt's pants are soaked with blood. He doesn't see bone but his leg is swollen to three times its normal size and beneath the blood it looks like there are black bruises. Not to mention the unnatural angle his leg is bent at.

Panic runs like ice water through his veins. There's no way he is going to get anywhere. Oh it looks so bad. Newt's breath comes in quicker until he's almost panting. In a hoarse voice he murmurs, "Shuck. Shuck. Shuck. Bloody shucking hell." His arms begin to tremble but Newt doesn't want to lower himself back into the puddle of congealing blood.

Instead, he tests out his good leg. A little sore but Newt is just glad it isn't broken. The blond moves his good leg so that his legs are more or less no longer touching. His vision darkens then returns to normal in a few seconds. Then he maneuvers his torso and butt so that he's sitting facing the wall he just jumped off of. Newt feels like his pack is a million miles away. He lets out a weak cough as the air tickles his dry throat. Getting water is essential.

Gritting his teeth together, Newt tries to put weight on the heel of his injured leg. Pain rockets up his leg and nearly knocks him unconscious. He can't stop the scream from tearing past his lips. When it subsides, Newt is left tasting the coppery tang of his blood. There isn't a way to do this without moving his leg. Blue eyes scan the area for something he can use to help him. His eye settle on the knife.

He barely avoided landing on it. Newt reaches for it and holds it in his hand. Sunlight reflects off the silver blade, temporarily blinding him until he adjusts it. The blond seriously considers using it on himself. In thought he chews on his bottom lip; immediately it splits and blood dribbles down his chin. At this rate he's going to bleed out before he can consider whether or not he really wants to die.

The thought startles Newt. Of course he wants to die. He's been planning this for a few days, planning how it was going to go. Not that it turned out anything like he was expecting. Newt has no idea why he failed though he suspects he wasn't high enough for the impact to do fatal damage. If he wanted to he could slit his own throat. Or spill his guts onto the stone ground. With the knife, there are a hundred ways to kill himself. Yet, the blond hesitates as he stares at the blade.

Suddenly he wonders if someone heard him scream. If someone is coming towards him now, checking on him to see if he needs help. If someone where to come it would be Minho. He and Minho run this section together every day, though they usually split up. Going out into the Maze to kill himself was so that none of the Gladers would have to find his body. But if someone is coming now...

What if its Minho? What if he sees Newt killing himself? What if he finds Newt's body, still warm but lifeless? Just a few seconds too late. Minho is strong but Newt doesn't think his friend could live through that. The psychological affects would be terrible and frankly Newt suspects the Gladers would be out not one but two Runners.

It isn't as difficult as Newt thought it would be to put thoughts of suicide aside. He flips the knife around so that the crooked handle is no longer in his hand. Ignoring the blade cutting into his palm as best he can, Newt leans forward towards his pack. If he can just hook the strap...Two times he fails. The third time he is successful. Like a starving dog, Newt tears into the pack. He opens the cap on the water bottle and takes a long swallow. When he lowers it from his lips its half empty. The water sloshes around in Newt's belly. He hopes he doesn't throw it back up.

Feeling slightly better, Newt sets the water aside. He looks in the direction he came from. The sun is just starting to enter the Western half of the sky; in a few hours it will sink below the walls and the Doors will close. Newt will be trapped and he will most certainly die. Going back is the only option.

The blond decides that he will have to use his arms to pull his body along and he's going to have to do it backwards. If he rolls over, Newt is sure that he's going to pass out again. He pulls himself backwards an inch. Blue eyes watch his leg drag behind him. A scream tears from his throat as his broken leg sends waves of blistering fire up his body. The scream fades to a whimper. Swallowing hard and blinking back tears, the blond pulls himself backwards and to the side another inch. Newt screams again.

The going is slow and painful. The amount of blood he is leaving behind is worrying him quite a bit more than he thinks it should. It takes more than an hour to move twenty feet to the first turn. He is hardly making any progress and it feels like he is getting weaker with every minute. His throat is raw from screaming and he left the water bottle where he landed. Newt puts his weight on his trembling arms, exposing his throat to the sky. Tears blur his vision but it seems like the sky is a little less blue and a little more orange.

Depression and panic set in as he realizes that there is no way he is going to make it back to the Glade before the Doors close. "Keep going, slinthead. You got yourself into this mess now get yourself out of it." He spots another beetle blade watching him from on the wall. Newt throws a rock at the silver lizard-like thing. It doesn't move.

The blond manages to drag himself a few more feet before the trainer of his bad leg gets caught on something. His skin and muscle stretches, jostling the broken bone. Newt can't stop the blood curdling scream that echos off the walls of the Maze. The noise bounces back at him. The pain is so great that his vision swims and he's nauseous with it. His stomach heaves; his ribs protest. Nothing comes up. Newt's body just can't take any more pain. He doesn't feel his head hit the ground for the second time that day.

It is somewhat fitting that pain is what knocked him unconscious and its what revives him. Newt stays conscious long enough to make some observations.

The first is that his leg – actually his entire body – still hurts just as much as it did when he passed out. This is expected.

What isn't expected is that he's being carried. Someone is carrying him bridal style, oblivious to the fact that Newt feels fresh waves of pain with every step. He blinks liquid from his eyes and makes out a familiar dark face.

Alby is looking straight ahead. He doesn't appear to have noticed Newt is awake. His pace quickens as they turn a corner. The second-in-command speaks in a voice that is calm and even. It doesn't take Newt long to figure out that Alby isn't saying anything important.

In any other situation, Newt would find this hilarious because Alby is shorter than he is. Not this time though. He's just grateful that someone found him. That the someone isn't Minho. Then he looks at the sky and the dread seeps in. Blue is taking over the sky again but its a darker blue.

Despair washes over him like a tidal wave. They aren't going to make it. The Grievers will come and it will be his fault that Alby will die too. Newt closes his eyes, trying to block it out. It could be blood or tears running down his cheeks.

A sound he's never heard but immediately recognizes echos off the Maze walls. Newt lifts his head to look around but all he can see is more stone walls covered with ivy. Its a dog barking. Since there is only one dog in the entire bloody Maze, Newt knows it must be Bark. However, she didn't get her name by actually barking; its more of an ironic thing.

Alby lets out a chuckle. "Do you hear that? She's welcoming us home. We're almost there, brother. Hang on a little longer." The dark skinned boy's pace increases.

Newt tries to respond but all that comes out is a moan. He closes his eyes again because its too hard to keep his eyelids open.

A few turns later, the hollering of male voices joins Bark's barking. Newt can picture them hollering and pointing, jumping up and down with excitement. Hoping that Newt and Alby will make it before the Doors close. As he's thinking that, Newt hears the mechanical grinding of the Doors starting to shut.

"We're going to make it." Alby's voice is firm. "Just hang on a little longer, Newt. The Med-jacks will fix you up good as new. You're going to be okay. But first, I'm so sorry, Newt. This is going to hurt." Alby is almost running now.

The jostling of his broken leg has Newt letting out a continuous whimper. Its a blinding, consuming pain that has his vision going white and black and blurry. Newt hurts so much he doesn't even care about the Doors closing. He hopes Alby will drop him and leave him to be crushed by the Doors. By the time they make it past the Doors, Newt is sobbing. His entire body is shaking from the white hot pain in his leg – not to mention all the other wounds – but for some reason he's entirely conscious.

As Alby slows to a stop, all of the noise the Gladers were making stops. A second later the final slam of the Door indicates that the Door is closed. They just barely made it. Bark goes quiet again. "Make a path!" Alby hollers. "Med-jacks, make yourselves useful."

The blond can sense others around him. He opens his eyes a sliver. They are in the Glade. Newt feels his heart and hope withering.

Twenty-five other boys stand around them. The Glader's faces are gave as their wide eyes take in the sight of Newt; broken in Alby's arms. One boy turns away but not before Newt sees the fear on his pale face. Its probably that Greenie who makes Newt really realize how stupid it was to try and commit suicide. They need hope not...not what Newt did.

Newt tries to smile. Judging by their faces, it doesn't work. Blue eyes scan the crowd for the face he longs most to see. The dark blur of Minho running towards them sets Newt's chest to hurting. Newt tries to call them all bloody shanks but he just moans again.

Nick is the first to take action, "Med-jacks, quit standing there like shuck-faces." He claps his hands together.

Alby continues walking through the crowd.

Without a word, everyone parts to make a path. Only the Med-jacks and Bark follow them.

As they are leaving Newt hears Nick's voice again, "Two of you shucks go stop Minho before he sees."

Newt hears the sound of two pairs of feet breaking into a run. Before they make it to the Homestead, Newt passes out again.

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><p><strong>Author's Note 2: Hi everyone. I got out of my writers funk so I decided to rewrite (and change around a little) Promises. Good thing I didn't get very far with it, right? lol Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this and that it inspires you to write your own Minewt fic. Since I really want to read some. :) <strong>


	2. Chapter 2

Waking up is at once a disappointment and a relief. Newt has never wanted to not wake up more than he has in this moment. He doesn't bother to stop the tears from streaming down his cheeks. His eyes squeeze shut as he raises his hands to hide his face. In his chest, his heart hurts so much he can't breathe. The heartache is almost as bad as the constant throbbing of his broken leg. Newt trembles with quiet sobs. The crying makes his raw throat hurt worse. At the back of his throat he can taste blood.

Newt can't explain what it is that makes him realize he isn't alone in the room but he suddenly becomes aware of a presence besides his own. The blond looks up. His heart sinks.

Minho sits in the only chair in the room. His dark brown eyes are fixated on Newt, trapping him under his unreadable gaze. The noirette Glader sits with one leg crossed over the other, his face resting in both hands, elbows digging into his thighs. His entire stance is rigid. There are dark bruise-like bags beneath his eyes. Judging by the hollows of his cheeks, Minho looks like he lost twenty pounds.

Although he should apologize, Newt can't think of a single way to start off. Instead, he pulls up his shirt and rubs his face cleaner with it. The minutes feel like hours.

Then Minho is standing, walking towards Newt's bed.

Newt tries to shrink back into the mattress. He blinks the tears away.

Slowly Minho sits down on the edge of the bed. His dark brown eyes never leave Newt's blue ones. "Tell me what happened." Minho's voice cracks. It sounds like he hasn't used it in a while. "Please, Newt." Minho's eyes are pleading.

Newt's glass heart shatters into thousands of sharp-edged pieces. He opens his mouth to speak but closes it again. He just can't say it out loud. He can't confess to his best mate that he tried to kill himself.

Minho swallows. "I saw your face... You jumped, didn't you?"

Mutely, Newt nods. The tears come in a fresh wave of heartache. He looks away from Minho. "Do you...Are you..." Newt takes a deep breath and starts over. "Are you mad at me? Do you hate me?" Newt searches Minho's face for any clues.

The surprised expression on Minho's face couldn't have surprised the blond anymore. "No. I'm not mad at you at all. I'm mad at the Creators. I hate them. They did this to you." Newt is surprised to see the noirette's olive colored hands are shaking. Those dark eyes are boiling with rage.

The shame he feels intensifies. Minho may blame the Creators but for all Newt knows, this is a preexisting condition. "I'm weak." Newt bites his lip.

Minho shakes his head. "You're human." He reaches out to cup Newt's cheek with his hand. "Stop doing that. You don't need to lose anymore blood." Minho's thumb traces circles on his cheek, close to his mouth.

Newt frees his lip from between his teeth. He closes his eyes, leaning into the noirette's hand.

"I care about you, Newt. I don't ever want to see that expression on your face." There is no need to ask which expression Minho is talking about. "I promise I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure you never feel that way again. I know its going to be hard, but please don't try to kill yourself again." Minho's words catch the blond by surprise. "Promise me you won't try again."

Newt opens his eyes. There isn't a hint of jest in Minho's face. The blond tries to lighten the mood, "Now whose getting soft, you bloody shank?"

Minho drops his hand. "Newt,"

"I promise." Newt replies quietly. The tension in the room is palpable. He smiles weakly. "For the record, I like my boys hard too."

The corners of Minho's mouth tug upwards in a smile. "Good that." He holds out his hand, palm facing up.

Newt accepts it, lacing their fingers together. The angle is a little awkward but he doesn't want to let go. Minho is his support. "What have you shanks been up to? How long have I been out?"

"You're the talk of the Glade. They won't shut up about you. Well, you and Bark. Who knew that dog actually had a voice in her?" Minho shakes his head but he has a smile on his face. "You've been MIA for a week. Gave us a right scare when you didn't wake up. We thought something was wrong with your brain."

Newt nods to himself, taking it in. He's certainly stiff enough to have been in a coma for a week. Blue eyes gaze down at the bulge under the blanket where his broken leg is. There's no way he wants to see it but he's curious about the damage. That's when he notices something else. "This isn't my shirt."

"We burned your clothes." Minho shrugs. "Alby's too."

Newt isn't sure how he feels about that but he knows why they did it. The bloodstains would have been a constant reminder. "Any of those shanks take my place as Runner?" His itch to run is starting to return. He wonders when he can get out of the bloody bed and get back to work.

The noirette shakes his head. "None of those shanks could be a Runner. We just have to hope they send another one up soon." Minho doesn't seem to notice that his thumb is now stroking the back of Newt's hand.

Newt is hyper aware of the sensation. The gentle touch is such a wonderful contrast from the pain.

Minho catches Newt's eye and jerks his chin towards the far corner of the room.

Newt follows his gaze. Hanging from the ceiling is a silver beetle blade. WICKED is written across its back. A chill goes up Newt's spine. He doesn't like that at all. "The bloody hell is that shucking thing doing there?"

"One of them followed you and Alby through the Maze all the way up to Homestead. We dismantled one of them, threw it off the Cliff. Then another one took its place. We've tried catching it too but its faster." Minho puts his free hand on Newt's face. "I guess they find you interesting."

"Do you find me interesting?" Newt smiles but inside his heart is racing.

"I don't find suicide interesting." Minho's voice is flat. Then he smiles. He leans his face closer to Newt's. "But yeah, you're an interesting shank, mate."

Their lips are inches apart when the door opens. "Minho, Alby's asking if you're gonna -" The boy stops. He's just a short little Greenbean. The boy's face turns bright red when he realizes he interrupted them.

Minho doesn't tear his gaze away from Newt. "I'm staying with Newt." He kisses the corner of Newt's mouth. "I'll talk to Alby later."

The Greenie leaves with a mumbled apology.

"That was mean." Newt can't keep the grin off his face.

"He's lucky he didn't walk in on someone else." Minho disagrees. He kisses Newt again, this time on the lips. Its just a quick peck. "That's all you get for now."

Newt doesn't argue. Being awake this long has been exhausting. He can't help but yawn.

"Mate, you need to chew on some of Frypan's peppermint." Minho exhales the taste of Newt's bad breath.

Blue eyes roll towards the thatch ceiling. "You make me feel so pretty." Now that Minho has said something, Newt is starting to realize how grimy he really is. Its gross. He used to bathe every day in the stream but being in a coma kind of hinders his ability to get clean.

Minho laughs. They smile at each other.

Newt sighs. His eyelids slide shut.

"Go to sleep. I'll be here when you wake up." Minho's voice is the last thing Newt hears before falling into a dreamless sleep.

Almost worse than the pain are the nightmares. They come every time Newt so much as closes his eyes. Some are worse than others. All of them cause him to wake up screaming, drenched in sweat and shivering. He never fails to have tears streaming down his face.

Sometimes its the blond falling endlessly. He tries to clutch the ivy that surrounds him but it always slips through his fingers or breaks.

Sometimes its being back in the Maze, leg broken, trying to drag himself away while Grievers advance. They always catch Newt, pluck out his eyes and disembowel him. The pain is unbelievably real.

Sometimes its being in the Maze alone. The silence hangs so heavily in the air it makes Newt's ears ring. Its those times that he can hear his every heartbeat, his every breath, every movement. He hates the constant reminder that he is alive and trapped in hell.

The worst ones of all are the ones that Newt isn't even a participant in, merely an observer. In those dreams, its Minho or Alby climbing the Maze wall. Its Minho jumping off and breaking his leg. Its Alby dragging his broken body to the Doors. Unlike Newt, no one comes to save them. They never make it to the Glade. Night falls and the Grievers tear them apart. Their screams echo in Newt's mind.

Newt's nightmares always wake up Minho. The noirette has taken to sleeping beside the injured Runner, always there to calm Newt's fears. Tonight is no different. Newt wakes up screaming, his throat raw. His long hair is pressed flat against his scalp from the cold sweat. Painful spasms assault his tense muscles. "Bloody...shucking...nightmares."

Minho is asleep when Newt wakes up. He doesn't stay that way for more than a few minutes. The Keeper of the Runners sits up and pulls the blond to his chest. Despite the sweat, Minho rubs his cheek against the top of Newt's head. "It was just a dream. Its over now. Its not real. Everything is okay. You're safe. Everyone is safe." His voice is tired but confident.

Newt leans against Minho's chest, focusing on the beating of the boy's heart. He doesn't dare close his eyes for fear of falling asleep again. In his head, the blond counts the number of heartbeats until his muscles relax. He continues counting until his breathing evens out. Newt counts the seconds as Minho lays him back on the bed.

Soft lips kiss Newt's cheeks, his temples, his eyelids. Then the tip of his nose. Finally, Minho's lips are on his. Its a soft, wet kiss.

It redirects Newt's thoughts from death to desire. He runs a hand through Minho's short black hair to the back of his head. Newt pulls the Keeper closer, desperate to forget everything and explore these feelings. Newt kisses Minho like his life depends on it. As they kiss his face heats up. Warmth starts in his lower regions. A wonderful _rush _has Newt moaning in Minho's mouth.

Minho pulls away with a gasp. "You...have a broken leg." His voice is low and husky. "Alby told me about you...not being able to handle being carried. I don't think you can handle having your leg moved around too much."

Newt keeps his whine of disappointment in his throat. "Then don't move my leg around."

Minho's mouth is close to Newt's ear. His breath sends exciting chills across the blond's pale skin. "When I claim you, you're going to need to be able to use your leg."

The injured boy huffs with mock irritation. "You're a bloody tease."

In the dark, Newt can barely make out Minho's smile. "Well it worked."

He stares blankly at the noirette until he remembers why he's awake at this hour of the night in the first place. "Shuck."

Both boys turn their heads at the sound of scratching at the door. The other boys are asleep – or otherwise occupied – at this hour and none of them have come to visit Newt anyway. Not even Alby or a Med-jack. Besides, Minho told Newt that most of the boys moved out of the Homestead when Newt's nightmares started keeping them awake.

Minho raises an eyebrow at Newt.

The blond shrugs. If it was something to be worried about, they would know by now.

The scratching persists. From the other side of the door comes a whine.

"Bark." Minho mutters under his breath. He eases himself out of the bed and pads barefoot over to the door.

When he opens it, the she-dog enters the room. Her tail wags furiously. She licks Minho's hand before trotting over to Newt.

Newt smiles despite himself and gives her a gentle pat on the head.

Having said hello to both of them, the black dog curls up in the corner.

Having her there makes Newt feel better. The blond remembers her calling the way home for them. The thought makes him happy for reasons Newt can't entirely explain to himself. It also makes him very, very sad. Newt sighs. He doesn't particularly care for the wild variations in his mood.

The noirette rejoins Newt in bed. Minho yawns and puts an arm over Newt's hips. "Try to get some sleep." Soon the room fills with the sounds of Minho and Bark softly snoring.

Newt lays awake in bed staring off into the darkness that lays beyond the window. His eyes burn from lack of sleep but the blond isn't ready to fall back into the nightmares. He runs his hand up and down Minho's arm, feeling the muscles and veins. His mind wanders to their kissing.

Right and wrong is easy enough to figure out but there are some areas that are gray. Sex is one of those gray areas. Newt just doesn't have the knowledge. Sure, he pretty much knows what it is but not exactly. He knows how to ride a bike but he doesn't remember where he was or who taught him or even when it happened. There isn't a lot to remember about sex. Are there rules? Is there a schedule you have to follow? Is there a wrong way to do it? When does it end?

Blue eyes gaze at Minho's sleeping face. The Runner isn't old by any means – they are probably only sixteen after all – but his face looks younger, softer, less stressed out. Minho's olive complexion looks darker in the poor lighting. Its a sharp contrast to Newt's pale white skin; made paler by the fact he hasn't seen the sun in almost two weeks.

Newt's jaws part in a wide yawn. The action confirms that his throat is still sore from all the screaming. He reaches for a cup of water on the rickety side table. It was constructed just for the purpose of giving Newt easy access to water. Running down his throat, the water is cool and soothes the inflammation. When he yawns a second time it doesn't hurt as much. Newt makes a mental note to remember that then slowly closes his eyes.

Daylight and a wet tongue wake Newt from a dreamless sleep. He blinks his eyes open to find Bark licking his hand. Newt eases his arm up and bends it. Prickles that are almost painful start in his hand and work up to his shoulder. "Shuck off, dog." He nudges Bark away with his hand.

Minho is sitting in what Newt has come to think of as his chair. He is smiling. "The Med-jacks say you should be able to start walking."

Newt just blinks. The thought of walking again didn't really cross his mind. "How would those slintheads know?"

Minho doesn't look him in the eye. "They've been checking on you." There is a long pause before Minho continues, "While you are asleep."

"What?" Newt replies flatly. He thinks of a nigthmare where beetle blades crawl over his skin. It always starts off harmless but soon they dig their little claws into Newt's flesh and burrow into his skin. Chills run up and down his spine at the thought of the nightmare and the thought of the others touching him while he is asleep.

Minho produces something from one of his pockets. Its a leafy green vine-line plant. "Peppermint." He tosses it to Newt before producing more and chewing on it.

The injured Runner catches it without thinking. He only glances at it before popping it in his mouth and chewing. The strong taste of peppermint floods over his taste buds. It sure makes his mouth feel a lot cleaner. Newt chases it down with water.

"You probably don't remember waking up to a full room and telling everyone off, do you?" Minho crosses his arms. His brown eyes are wary.

Mutely, Newt shakes his head. He doesn't like any of this. His skin flushes with hatred aimed at the Maze and the Creators. It makes him wish more than ever that he had succeeded. Newt would give anything for all of the pain to go away.

"I don't think you were really awake. It was a day after Alby brought you back. The Med-jacks were checking to make sure they fixed up your leg right and everyone else was watching. Not even really talking and being annoying. You sat up and screamed at the top of your klunk lungs for everyone to shucking get out of your room. Then you passed out. Since then I'm the only one who is allowed up here while you are awake."

One sentence rolls around in Newt's head, repeating itself over and over. It presses against his skull and pounds in time with his heartbeat. "They didn't fix up my leg right. They can't bloody do anything. They're shuck-faced teenagers. We're in a piece of klunk Maze being spied on," Newt glares harshly at the beetle blade still perched in the far corner of the room, "by some mysterious Creators who can't seem to make up their bloody minds if they want us dead or alive." By the end of his rant, Newt is trembling with rage. He has a strong desire to hit something. He has a strong desire to feel a blade bite into the flesh of his throat; where was this feeling when he was alone in the Maze?

Newt looks away, rests his forehead against his knuckles. His broken leg is throbbing painfully. Its still swollen but he has no idea if the bruises are still black. Every breath he breathes dries out his mouth and throat but Newt does nothing to ease that discomfort. He feels Minho watching him, looks over then away quickly.

Minho says nothing. He doesn't move any closer to the blond boy on the bed.

Knowing that he's being ridiculous, Newt takes a deep breath. He wants to know why his depression and anger keep flaring up; why he has them in the first place. If wishes were fishes he would never go hungry."Tell them I'm not walking today." Newt flings an arm over his face and closes his eyes. "I can't..."

For several long minutes, Minho still says nothing. Then his footsteps can be heard coming closer. He sits down on the edge of the bed and takes Newt's free hand. "Tomorrow then."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: Some of you may be wondering why Newt is behaving as such and not like the Newt we see in Maze Runner. For those of you who don't know, depression is very crippling. It sucks out all of your happiness - if you can even manage to feel happy - and leaves you confused, angry, and very sad. I don't think I explained that very well. Just know that it isn't always going to be like this.<strong>

I was thinking that the boys probably don't have many, if any, sexual experiences. If they do, they probably don't remember. So that would be a big gray area in their "memories".

I write scenes while I'm at work so expect more. I will finish it.


	3. Chapter 3

Sometimes tomorrow comes too quickly. The sun isn't up when Newt wakes but Minho is. For a few minutes blue eyes watch Minho looking out the window. He feels the urge to run rise in the Keeper of the Runners. Its been a long time since Minho went out last; almost three weeks. "Are you worried you won't be in shape by the time you go back?"

Minho starts, obviously startled. He turns around with a sheepish look on his face. "Of course not. Even though all I've been doing is laying around with you."

Newt doesn't take the bait. The blond doesn't want to get out of the bed even though he's never ever been this bored. Like his depression, the boredom is something that Minho merely takes the edge off of.

When Newt doesn't reply, Minho adjusts his harness. "Just get it over with, Newt. Don't be a pussy willow."

Newt throws his hands into the air, frustrated. "I'm not allowed to have sex but I'm allowed to go for a bloody walk?" Despite his protests, the blond sits up in bed. He arches his back and yawns. Outside the sky is just starting to lighten. It would be nice to go outside; to see something besides the bloody walls and ever-present beetle blade. Now that he's faced with moving, Newt's hesitation turns to fear. What ifs bounce around in his skull. The biggest is _what if my leg still hurts too much to move it? _

Stop it; Newt mouths the words to himself. He draws his good leg up to his chest and hugs it. The thick bandages on his leg go past his knee, so his leg is straight as a board.

Minho stands with his arms crossed, waiting. His expression is blank.

Slowly, Newt inches his broken leg to the right an inch. Its like trying to move a sack of bricks that shocks you every time you touch it. Tingles run up Newt's nerves as his leg begins to get feeling back. He scoots it over another few inches. _This isn't as bad as it was in the Maze. _The blond leaves his leg beside the edge of the edge of the bed, unwilling to let it just drop down to the floor.

The noirette closes the distance between them. He kneels and gently takes hold of Newt's foot. "Scoot your butt over here while I do this." Minho lowers Newt's foot to the floor.

As he does, Newt scoots his butt over to the edge of the bed. He puts his good leg on the floor beside his injured one. Without realizing what he's doing, Newt reaches out a pale hand to run through Minho's short black hair.

Minho makes a noise of pleasure. His eyelids slide closed and the tension melts out of his shoulders. The noirette leans into Newt's touch.

_Wow. That was caused by me. I did that. _The knowledge is mind-blowing.

Then Minho shakes his head, dislodging the pale hand from his hair. He flashes Newt a knowing grin before standing up. "You aren't getting out of it that easy. C'mon, Newt. You can do this."

Newt casts a nervous glance at Minho before looking in the opposite direction. His blue gaze drops to the floor and his broken leg. Though he still hasn't seen it since the day in the Maze, Newt has a suspicion it still doesn't look very good. "Better to get it over with, right?"

"Good that. Don't be a sissy." Contrary to his hard voice, the noirette's expression is soft. "I won't let you fall." It sounds equal parts reassuring and threatening.

Not for the first time, Newt thinks he's made a mistake. "Don't go getting all soft on me now." He wants to lay back down and never get up. The blond frowns. He glances at Minho again. Then he nods to himself, trying to steel himself for whatever comes next. Going slow, Newt begins to stand. He ties to put all his weight on his good leg. Even so, its been three weeks since he used it last. It feels like his leg is going to give out under his weight. "Are you sure about this, mate? I feel like it takes longer than three weeks for bones to heal."

Minho sighs. He crosses his arms in front of his chest. "We aren't actually expecting you to be walking around. Alby would have my hide if I let you do that. The Med-jacks just want to see if you can stand up."

Newt glares at Minho. This could have been avoided completely. Shucking idiots. "Well, I'm on my bloody feet. Can I sit down now?" He doesn't wait for the Keeper's agreement before planting his butt back on the edge of the bed. Immediately the blond feels better.

Minho sits beside him. "Aim high, shoot low." He explains, "You never would have done it if I told you we just wanted you to stand up." He laces his fingers with Newt's.

Newt squeezes his hand. Minho is right about that. "You know me too well."

"We've only known each other all our lives. What kind of shuck would I be if I didn't know you?" The noirette rubs his cheek against Newt's. His smile is mischievous and excited. "Don't fight." Minho puts one arm around Newt's waist and the other beneath his knees.

Before Newt can question whats going on, he's in the air. The blond lets out a little noise of surprise and wraps his arms around Minho's neck. He takes a few deep breaths to calm himself. It doesn't work as well as he had hoped it would. "What. Are. You. Doing?"

"You need some fresh air. And a bath." Minho replies. He kicks open the door and begins the descent sideways down the stairs.

Blue eyes watch on with worry. He winces as Minho barely avoids hitting his leg against the door frame.

"You're klunking heavy, Newt." Minho grunts as he descends the first flight of stairs. His arms aren't shaking so Newt doesn't take the comment very seriously. Besides, Minho is in very good shape and Newt is not at the present time.

"How is it you always manage to make me feel so attractive and special?" Newt rolls his eyes. He rests his head against Minho's shoulder.

The noirette lets out a huff of laughter. "You're a special little leaf, you know."

A smile curls Newt's lips upwards. "I think you mean snowflake." Three steps later and doubts fill the blond's mind like beetle blades flitting about. Newt licks his lips. "I want to go back up." As though there actually are beetle blades listening – or worse, the other Gladers – Newt drops his voice to a whisper, "How can I face them?"

They reach the second flight of stairs before Minho pauses to answer. "Tell them the truth. I'll be here to back you up and so will Alby." Then he's on the move again.

A few steps and Newt will be face to face with the other Gladers. He turns his face towards Minho's chest so that its out of view. His shame is far greater than Newt could have imagined.

Minho gives him a light squeeze. "Its okay, Newt. Our main concern is making sure no one else does it too."

The blood drains from Newt's face. He thought of that before he did it, but he hoped that by removing himself from them it would make them less likely to try suicide. He was hoping his death would come off as not getting back in time. Newt should have known better. In the back of his mind is a fuzzy image of the Glader's watching him with haunted faces. "Do they know it wasn't an accident?" He breathes the words so only Minho can hear them.

"They just know you climbed the ivy and that you're alive." Minho replies quietly, "What you tell them happened is up to you. Just make sure we don't get any copy-cats." The noirette stops in the middle of the stairs, perhaps sensing this is going to be a longer conversation than he bargained for. He sits down with the injured Runner in his lap.

Newt can't stop the shaking of his hands. He's nervous and terrified. He doesn't know what he's going to tell the Gladers. "Does Nick know?"

Minho shakes his head. "Didn't see much point. He had enough on his plate without dealing with that too." The noirette smiles down at Newt but there is pain in his brown eyes. "This isn't really what I imagined would happen when I told you I like my boys hard. Well, I figured I would be carrying you somewhere but not like this."

Though he doesn't think Minho is trying to make him feel guiltier, its happening anyway. Newt knows he let everyone down. He knows it whether they know it or not.

Minho stands once more, his balance not surprising Newt even a little. They go down the last four steps and into the main room of the Homestead.

In all his worry, Newt forgot that the other Gladers are busy with their jobs. Gally and Zart are the only ones in the Homestead at this hour. The pair sits on the floor laughing about something and holding flower crowns. Upon seeing them, Zart jumps up. He walks over and places a crown of pink roses on Newt's head. "Glad to see you're okay, mate." Zart smlies, "Do us all a favour and don't go climbing anymore walls."

If Zart didn't smell like sour milk, Newt could have kissed him. Stunned, Newt just nods. "You shucks stay off the walls too. The ivy gets thinner nearer the top." He touches the soft flower petals on his head. "Where did you get bloody flowers?" There aren't any growing in the Glade.

Gally joins them. He puts a flower crown of purple flowers on Minho's head. "Zart the fart here requested them when the Box came." A look passes between the three Gladers that has Newt feeling like he's missed something important.

Before he can ask, Minho speaks up, "Alright slintheads, give us some room. The poor shuck's been inside for two weeks. Time to get him some fresh air." Minho walks between the two of them and out the door.

The sunlight on Newt's skin feels so warm and incredible that he moans with joy.

Minho gives the blond a look but says nothing.

Outside they are greeted by Bark. The black dog's tail wags hard as she noses Minho's legs. Newt lowers a hand so that she can lick it. She follows Minho and Newt into the forest.

They only go a few feet to the stream. Being gentle, Minho sets Newt down in the sand on the bank. He moves to help Newt out of his shirt, fingertips brushing against Newt's bare skin.

Newt places his hands on top of the Runner's. "I can do it." His heart is beating far too fast for his liking considering that nothing is going to come of the touches. "Turn around or something."

Minho's surprised expression speaks volumes. "You do realize that -"

"Yes I do, you shank." The blond crosses his arms. "Now turn around so I can have a view of your tight ass while I do this."

Minho chuckles as he turns around. He sways his hips from side to side.

Blue eyes watch for a few seconds before Newt tears his gaze away. He shakes his head to clear it of thoughts of Minho's very, very nice butt. Those pants really do wonders for it. A flush of warmth spreads over his skin. To counteract it, Newt cups his hands in the cold stream water and splashes his face. He peels off his shirt then tosses it aside. The water is wonderfully cool on the back of his neck and running down his chest. Being almost clean is a marvelous feeling.

"I'm going to look." Leaves crunch as Minho turns around once more. "Don't get your cast wet."

Newt doesn't look. "I'm not going to get the bloody cast wet. You know I have bathed myself before." He slides the foot of his good leg into the water.

Minho squats down and picks up a leaf. "Not with a broken leg." He starts tearing it into small pieces.

Before Newt can come up with a sarcastic remark, Bark leaps into the water. She splashes both of them as she does a sort of doggy dance that involves a lot of tail-wagging and prancing about.

"Dumb dog." The blond mutters. He pushes her away when she comes looking for attention. Newt hooks his thumbs in his trousers. He slides them down a bit, dragging the material with him. Blue eyes glance at Minho then away again. Blood rushes to color his face. Leaning back, Newt puts most of his weight on his elbows as he slides his trousers down another few inches. He shifts his weight to the back of his neck and shoulders so he can stretch his arms out fully. Slowly the blond balances his weight between his good foot and his shoulders, raising his butt off the ground. Quickly he slides his trousers over his butt before letting himself fall back with a huff.

Laughter comes from behind him. Newt looks to see Minho flat on his butt, holding his sides and laughing. He catches Newt looking and his laughter redoubles. As he's wiping his eyes, the noirette apologizes. " That was just...You know I could have helped you, right?"

"I don't need you." Newt snaps. The nerves in his back along his spine are tingling as rage makes his blood run cold. He takes a few breathes that are more like pants. His hands are shaking again, fingers curling into fists. Nails that have had three weeks to grow without being trimmed dig into Newt's palms. Stinging pain tells him that he's bleeding again.

Minho's smile drops. All of the laughter dies from his face. He crawls over to Newt, grabs his pale hands. He wriggles his fingers between Newt's nails and palms.

Little red beads form before Newt retracts his claws. "Sorry," the injured Runner whispers. Newt doesn't like what just happened. He hopes it doesn't get worse. He covers his eyes with his hand. "Sorry. That...wasn't true."

Minho wraps his arms around Newt in a hug. "I know."

Newt leans against the Keeper of the Runners. Minho is his Keeper; its his job to help Newt. "You wanna help me get these off?" He gestures to his trousers.

Minho puts his hands on Newt's shoulders as he adjusts his position. The noirette moves so that he's in front of Newt. He helps Newt out of one leg of his trousers then the next. Minho scoops the blond up and sets him in the stream, injured leg still on the bank.

Bark comes over to lick Newt's face. He shoves her away. Unphased, she just snaps at leaves in the water.

Newt sits in the shallow water with his head down. Minho's fingers gently tug at his long golden yellow hair. He chews on his lip as he tries not to think about how good it feels. The blond shivers as the Keeper's fingertips brush against his neck.

Olive hands wash every inch of the blond – except of course those several inches Newt wants him to touch most. "Don't get used to this." It sounds like Minho is smiling.

Newt groans out his reply, "Wouldn't dream of it." He taps his fingers against his thigh.

The crunching of leaves makes both of them jump. Blue and brown eyes fixate on the boy that interrupted them last time. He freezes when he sees them. "Uh..."

Newt watches with amusement while the boy's freckled face turns bright red. "You got a name, Greenbean?" He flashes his best smile at the redhead boy.

He rubs his knuckles together. "Uh...I...M-my name's Tim." Tim's eyes are wide.

Minho's arms wrap possessively around Newt. "Get out of here, shuck-face." Minho's voice is a growl.

Tim nods. The boy turns heel and trips over an exposed tree root. He scrambles up only to trip a few steps later. They hear him crashing through the forest away from them.

"Did you see that Greenbean's face? What a shuck." Minho shakes his head. He runs his hands up Newt's chest. "We think he's fourteen."

"I thought he was going to klunk himself." He doesn't remember seeing the kid before his last trip into the Maze. "Wonder what the shuck he was doing out here." Suddenly Newt gets a chill. His body contorts as it travels from his toes to his head. "Get me out of this bloody water before I freeze." Newt wraps his arms around Minho's neck as the Keeper picks him up.

Its only then that the injured boy realizes Minho's clothes are wet. He sets Newt down and slides off his pack. From it the noir produces two outfits. One of them he hands to the blond. Its a hooded cream colored shirt, a burnt orange tank, and pair of brown trousers. Minho strips of his wet clothing before helping Newt to get dressed. In silence the Runner buttons up his shirt, relaces his trainers, and slips on his pack. "Ready?"

"Where are we going?" Newt is swept up off the ground without getting an answer. This being carried thing is beginning to get annoying. "When is my leg going to be better?"

Bark happily follows the couple out of the forest. She runs ahead then turns around and runs back.

"Another three or four weeks." Minho sets the blond down beneath a tree at the edge of the forest. From here they have a good view of the Glade.

Bark lays down and puts her head on Newt's thigh. Her brown eyes gaze up at him so full of love.

Giving in, he strokes her silky ears. Newt feels a little guilty that he would be leaving Bark one less person to love. He's actually kind of happy that so far everyone is glad to see him. Its hard to be happy when you are so shucking sad.

"Looks like you have a fan." Minho holds Newt's free hand.

Newt pauses in his ear-rubbing to point to the flower crown on his head. "I think its more than one fan."

Minho rolls his eyes. "Those shanks are going to ask for your bloody hand in marriage, just you wait." The noirette pauses, "You really scared us. You know how they say fire exposes our priorities?" Minho looks away as he says the last bit, "The same can be said for...falling."

Newt's heart gives a painful squeeze. It feels like its going to shatter as surely as glass thrown against a wall. "Minho, I can't bloody talk about that klunk right now." Newt's voice is soft. His hands are shaking again but having the Keeper of the Runners and Bark – whom Newt likes to think of as the Keeper of the Gladers – touching him helps to keep Newt grounded.

Bark licks the back of Newt's hand.

Newt wipes the slobber on his trousers before continuing to pet her. "Aren't I yours?" His heart thumps a million miles a minute. He shouldn't keep exposing himself like this but Newt needs reassurance.

Minho leans over to kiss Newt's cheek. "Definitely." He lifts and drops a shoulder in a shrug that contradicts his words, "We haven't claimed each other yet but we'll get there."

At the thought of a claim, Newt touches his neck. A claim isn't quite as sweet as it sounds yet Newt finds himself longing for it.

As though reading Newt's mind, Minho clarifies, "It won't be until after you heal."

The blond wonders how much teasing it will take before Minho gives in. "Hey, I'm a strong young stallion and there isn't anything wrong with my -"

Minho cuts him off with a kiss. "Newt, you have a broken leg. Still. And although that's the worst of your injuries, its not the only one. Try being patient. A smile turns the corners of Minho's mouth upwards. "So you think you're a stallion?"

"You laugh now but just you wait. I'll show you, ya bugging shank." Newt feels hands on his biceps then he's laying down in Minho's lap.

Minho's brown eyes are giving him the same look that Bark's did. It makes Newt want to scream. "Good that."


	4. Chapter 4

Sunlight streams in through Newt's window, reflecting off the shiny silver of the beetle blade that hangs in the corner of the room. Two bodies lay shirtless on the single bed in the room, one facing away from the other. Pale hands play with a crown of pink roses. Newt hums to himself while Minho makes little braids in his long golden hair. Although there have been plenty of moments when Newt has almost been happy, this one feels closer than the others.

"There's something I have to tell you." Minho puts his hand on Newt's thigh.

The Runner turns his head so that he can see Minho's face. The noirette looks serious. His brown eyes are sad. "Whats up?"

"Nick is dead." Minho's expression doesn't change.

Newt waits for him to say something to the effect of _just kidding _but it doesn't come. He jerks away from the Keeper, sitting up as he does. The blond tries to conjure up the last time he saw Nick. With a start, it dawns on Newt that he can't remember. The tall, dark, brooding Nick can't be dead. Nick is such a good leader. He can't be dead. "What happened?"

"Last time the Box came up, Nick tied himself with a rope and followed it down about twenty feet. Something came out of the wall and cut him clean in half." Minho swallows. His eyes are haunted. "We could only retrieve half his body..."

Newt's head swims with the knowledge. Like the other Gladers, the blond keeps careful track of when the Box comes up. The newest Greenbean, Tim, came up three weeks ago. "You waited three shucking weeks to tell me that Nick is dead?" His head hurts. He puts his head in his hands.

Minho traces nonsense patterns on Newt's arm. "We didn't want you to -"

Fury explodes within him. "To try it?!" Newt snaps. He glares at the noirette. "I haven't tried anything since jumping! Why don't you trust me?!"

Minho's expression contorts into one of anger. He sits up. "I care about you, shank! I don't want you to die!" He puts both hands on Newt's shoulders. His knuckles are white from squeezing so hard. "I don't know whats going on in your shuck head, but you look so sad when you think I'm not looking. It scares me, alright? I'm scared that everything I do won't be enough to make you want to live. The thought of losing you scares me more than everything in this klunk world we live in." Minho's arms are trembling. He wraps them around Newt in a hug and hides his face against Newt's shoulder.

Newt's heart is racing almost as fast as his mind. Not a single thought comes to mind that would ease Minho's worry. Suicidal thoughts disturb him and yet...He thinks about dropping into the Box without the rope. Would the blades be fast enough? He wonders how long Nick was alive after being cut in half. Newt runs a hand through Minho's short hair but this time it doesn't relax the noirette; he seems to shake more. "I haven't tried anything."

Its a few minutes before Minho responds. "I feel like you are going to walk to your own death."

"At the moment it would be more like crawling." Newt tries to make it sound like a joke.

Minho's next words are difficult to hear, "I wish I could help you."

Newt tries to hold back his tears. Crying is for the weak. Crying is for Greenies who can't handle life in the Glade. "You're making me cry." The blond tries to wipe them away but Minho has his arms pinned to his sides and doesn't appear to be letting go any time soon. "And you're breaking my heart."

"Then I guess we're even." Minho pulls away but his face is lowered. He hides his face in his gloved hands before Newt can see. "The funeral is at noon."

"I'll be there." Newt lays down on his side. He taps Minho's leg to get his attention then holds out his hand, palm up.

Minho sighs. He lays down behind Newt, pressed flush against his body. His hand holds tightly onto the blond's pale one. Minho rubs his face against the back of Newt's neck and inhales deeply. "Please don't joke about killing yourself."

Mouth dry suddenly too dry for words, Newt nods. Unable to stare at the beetle blade in the corner, Newt closes his eyes.

It feels like hardly any time passes before Minho is shaking him awake. Without a word the noirette carries Newt down the stairs.

They go to the Deadheads. Unlike last time the blond was outside, all of the Gladers are gathered in a half circle. They wear somber expressions mixed with what looks like both disgust and fascination. All of them hold a flower in their hand.

As they take their place, Newt gets a good look at Nick's body. He doesn't bother to hide his horror. Nick is only a torso with bone and organs visible. His flesh hasn't completely rotted so the expression of surprise is still on his pale face. The coffin lid is a slab of glass with words etched into it:

_Let this half-shank be a warning to you all: You can't escape through the Box hole._

This is the only grave with a warning on it. The timing is too good to be a coincidence.

Alby is the first to step forward. He's taken Nick's place as leader. The dark teenager holds a yellow flower in his hand. He places it on the lid, making sure the words are still visible. "You'll be missed, brother."

Newt looks up to the sky. It feels like it should be raining but as usual the sky is sunny and clear.

One by one the Gladers come forward to give their flower and a few words. Then its Newt and Minho's turn. Minho carries Newt to the grave where they place their flowers. Newt kisses the rose before setting it down. He wants to say something to the dead leader but he doesn't dare with the others there.

Afterward everyone disperses. They leave in groups of two and three; no one wants to be alone after being so close to a lifeless body.

Minho takes Newt back to the spot beneath the only tree that looks like its actually thriving. He sits on Minho's lap and they watch the other Gladers working. "My arms are going to be ridiculously strong what with all of the carrying you around."

Newt rolls his eyes but smiles.

Ben and Alby walk by the couple, arms around each others waists. Despite having just come from a funeral they look happy to be together. They both smile and wave. Alby veers in the direction of Minho and Newt. He kneels in front of them."We're calling a Gathering later. You're both to attend."

Ben stands a few feet away smiling and rubbing his neck.

Newt blinks with surprise. He isn't a Keeper and he doesn't feel like a very good person in general. His eyes flit from Ben to Alby.

Before he can protest, Minho replies for both of them, "Good that." His arms tighten around the blond.

Knowing what a short temper Alby has, Newt nods agreement. "Good that." His eyes stray to Alby's dark neck. The left side a mess of dried blood.

With a wide smile, Alby stands up. "Its good to see you out and about, brother." He returns to Ben. The two rub cheeks before Alby slides his arm around the brunette's waist. Together they walk away.

When they are out of earshot Newt faces the noirette, "Do you think those buggers could have been more bloody obvious about it?"

Minho shrugs. "I didn't notice anything."

Newt pokes the Keeper's chest.

"Yeah, yeah, its pretty shucking obvious." He rubs his nose against Newt's. "Its a little messed up to have sex before a funeral."

"I hope everyone has sex before my funeral." Newt replies without thinking. Blue eyes catch brown. "I hope you realize one day I am going to die."

"Don't remind me." Minho leans his head against the trunk of the tree.

Newt picks a blade of grass. He tears it into small pieces. "So whats this Gathering about?"

Minho's eyelids close."Probably who is going to replace Nick as leader." He runs a hand through his hair with a sigh.

"Sounds fun." Newt replies sarcastically. That's a mess he doesn't want to be a part of. He tosses away the tiny pieces of grass and picks a new blade."Why am I going? I'm not on the Council."

Minho opens his eyes to give Newt an unamused stare. "You ask more questions than a Greenie." His olive-colored hands find Newts pale ones. "Just be patient. The Gathering is later night."

"Maybe you could keep me occupied."

Laughter startles the injured Runner. "You are the most attractive shank I've ever met and I would do you right now if I could but you're still broken." Minho pulls Newt closer. "Talk dirty to me."

A blush colors Newt's face red. "Fine, fine. I'll be a good boy and wait."

The day seems to drag on forever. Even with Minho there to entertain him and Bark bringing him things to throw, Newt is unbelievably bored. The only semi-interesting thing that happens is Minho points out a beetle blade watching them and Frypan delivers lunch.

Newt is tapping his fingertips against his thighs when the sun finally starts to set. Grinding fills the air as the Doors prepare to close. Blue eyes watch the Runners return. They go straight to their hut and close the door behind them. An odd ache starts in Newt's chest; he wants to be with them.

With a familiar air of finality, the Doors close for the night. Almost immediately, the moaning of the Grievers starts. It sets Newt on edge and he grinds his teeth together. His hands twitch until he sticks them in his armpits.

Movement catches Newt's eye; the Keepers heading towards the building they hold the Gatherings in. If his leg wasn't broken still he would jump up and run after them. "Come on, come on." At this point the boredom is so great the blond doesn't care what the Gathering is about. "Lets go already."

Minho picks up the injured blond. He sets off at a jog towards the Homestead. Newt opens a side door by the stairs. The noirette sets Newt in a chair then sits beside him.

Blue eyes look around the room. There is a chair for every Keeper and the leader. Plus his chair.

The other boys are sitting in their chairs restlessly. No one is speaking and their faces are grave. Alby sits in the center chair, in what Newt assumes was Nick's spot. There is only one empty chair.

Suddenly Winston bursts through the door. His apron is covered in blood. He leaves bloody footprints. "Sorry. Been busy getting dinner ready for Frypan." There is no need for further explanation.

At the sight of the red smears, Newt feels the blood drain from his face. He takes a deep breath and focuses on a small tear in Minho's pants.

Alby stands up. "You all know what we have to discuss today. I do not want a repeat of George." He eyes each and every one of them. Only a few of the Keepers meet his eye. "That being said, we need order and to have order we need a leader. Every Keeper here will vote for who they want to be leader and I'll take it into consideration."

Newt notices Alby's use of the word Keeper; a nicer way of saying he doesn't get to vote. That's fine. He's interested in who Minho wants to lead them.

The dark teenager hands Newt a small chalkboard and piece of chalk. He doesn't need to explain what to do with it. "We'll start with Frypan." Alby sits down.

Frypan crosses his arms in front of his chest. He eyes them all, his face expressionless. "Gally."

Newt writes down Gally's name and adds a line beside it. He notices that the Builder gives Frypan a grateful nod.

Clint smiles, "Alby."

Newt writes down Alby's name below Gally's.

Winston votes for Gally. He flashes a smile at the Builder.

Zart doesn't look at anyone when he votes for Alby.

Gally leans forward. "I vote for myself."

Minho nods to Alby. "I vote for Alby."

Alby glances at the Builder before looking at Newt. "I vote for myself."

Newt adds the mark then holds up the board. "Alby's the new leader." He announces with a smile. If he could have voted, Alby would have been his vote too. Gally is big and strong, good with his hands. Neither of them has a very kind temperament, but Alby just seems to be a natural leader.

Gally holds up his hands in surrender. "Yeah, yeah. Its just official now." He grins at the dark teenager. "No hard feelings, Alby."

Newt is surprised that it appears Gally is being sincere. He sets aside the chalkboard. "This is all bloody great, but what am I doing here?"

The other Keepers look at each other. No one speaks.

Minho is avoiding his gaze. The noirette looks a little ashamed.

Suddenly Newt gets a sinking feeling. None of the other Gladers are meeting his eye. The silence makes his ears ring. Tension is heavy like fog.

Finally Frypan throws up his arms. "Just tell him already!"

Alby coughs. His dark brown eyes catch Newt's blue ones. "We've decided that you aren't fit to be a Runner."

Newt doesn't say anything. His mind repeats those last few words; _not fit to be Runner. _It feels like the air just got sucked out of the room. Suddenly something occurs to him. Newt turns to Minho. "You knew." He's surprised at how calm his voice is. "You slinthead, you knew about this and you didn't tell me?!" Newt punches Minho's thigh, hard. He wants to punch him in the face but the angle is all wrong. Blue eyes take in the group as a whole. "Why are you keeping secrets from me? I'm not some Greenie. I can shucking handle knowing things."

Gally is the one who sighs first. "Zart, just shucking tell him."

Before Newt can say a word about how they are keeping _more _secrets from him, Zart speaks. "Those flowers I requested were for you," he pauses to clear his throat, "if you didn't wake up."

It takes Newt a second to process this information. They really thought he was going to die. Dying was the end goal but none of them were supposed to know. "Why...We didn't do that for anyone else."

Gally sighs again. He cracks his knuckles.

No one says anything.

Minho still isn't looking at him.

"Someone had better be giving me answers." Newt growls out the words. Newt feels more than sees Minho shift beside him.

"I told them to plant some flowers for you so you would see them if you woke up." Minho doesn't mention why but Newt has a feeling he knows why. "And if you didn't wake up then they could be used on your grave. As it turns out, you woke up."

"Fine." Newt crosses his arms. "You know I'm going to be up and running again soon, right? I've only got two weeks left." Though the thought of going back into the Maze is making him dizzy. Or maybe its all of the betrayal he's been feeling today.

Alby stands up. "You aren't going back in the Maze. This isn't up for discussion." His voice is hard and his eyes are cold.

Newt looks around. His hope withers as he sees the Keepers nodding their agreement.

Except for Minho; he's still as a statue.

Newt wishes he could stand up. His voice steadily rises as he speaks, "But I'm the fastest Runner! I'm the one who caught that klunk beetle blade! What am I going to do if I'm not bloody Running?" He pauses for breath then, "Which one of you buggers came up with this klunk anyway?"

Beside Newt a quiet voice says, "I did."

Those two words cut through Newt like a knife. He opens his mouth to say something then closes it. Minho doesn't want him to be a Runner. Newt's body jerks away from Minho of its own accord. His mind races, trying to find some hint that this was coming. There was nothing to indicate this was going to happen. "I hate you." Newt is surprised that his voice isn't shaking.

Minho says nothing. He still isn't looking at Newt. The noirette bites his lip and folds his arms in front of his chest.

Newt puts his head in his hands. Hot tears fall into his palms. If he could he would have already run out of the room. Its bad enough that those shanks are seeing him so shuck emotional.

All of a sudden Minho is on his feet. He slings Newt over his shoulder.

Newt's ribs connect with Minho's shoulder and his breath _whooshes _out of him. He lets out a small whimper as he digs is nails into Minho's back for purchase. It feels like he's going to fall. Blue eyes watch the other Gladers watching them.

Frypan and Clint are whispering to each other.

Gally is smirking as he watches Minho carry Newt away.

Alby's expression is one of pain. It looks like he's trying to silently communicate something to Newt but the blond doesn't know what it could be.

Though he can't do anything about his injured leg, Newt tries to find some purchase with his good one. Eventually he works his foot up so its on Minho's hip. It takes some weight off his ribs and he sucks in a breath of air. "Minho, where are you taking me?" Newt asks as they leave the Homestead.

"To the Maze." Minho's grip on Newt tightens. "Would you quit moving before I drop you?" The noirette snaps needlessly.

The ex-Runner stopped struggling the moment he heard their destination. Ice seeps through his veins under his skin. Newt feels himself pressing closer to Minho's strong body. Blue eyes look up at the night sky. The Door shouldn't even be open right now. As nausea threatens to make him regurgitate his lunch, Newt starts shaking. Since he can't see ahead of them, Newt uses the Homestead as a judge for how close they are to the Doors. The closer they get the more foggy his mind gets.

The Maze. The Grievers. Laughing boys going into the Maze just before the Doors close. Scraps of bloody fabric the next morning. The dark green blur of ivy covered walls. Jumping. Pain exploding in his leg, traveling throughout his body. Laying in a puddle of his own blood. Freezing cold underneath the hot sun. His own screams echoing off the stone walls. The agony of dragging himself. Smears of bright red blood left behind.

Fear pours into his veins. Newt blanches. "Stop, stop, stop. Stop! Shucking stop!"

Minho sets him down in the grass. They are ten feet from the Doors.

Newt curls into himself. He puts his head in his hands again. His hairline is sweaty. The blond trembles. His breath comes in gasping pants. Never in his wildest dreams did Newt imagine he would be too scared to get within ten feet of the Doors.

Minho crouches beside him. "This is why I decided to revoke your title as Runner." He takes Newt's hands in his.

Newt shakes his head violently. His golden braids hit him in the face. "I have to run. What am I going to do if I can't run?" From the corner of his eye, he watches the Maze. He half expects the Doors to open and a Griever to snatch him.

"We'll find something." Minho stands up. He scoops Newt up bridal style. "Lets go see if we can get some of Frypan's whiskey."

* * *

><p><strong>Die hard book fans will probably realize that I changed Nick's date of death from after Chuck comes up...to after Tim comes up (which is a lot earlier; 9 whole months by my guess). The reasoning behind this is because I doubt he's going to be a skeleton in a month in a place the climate doesn't ever change. <strong>


	5. Chapter 5

Blue eyes watch as Minho picks a red apple from a basket in Frypan's kitchen. He then sets about eating. Or so Newt assumes; three minutes and there hasn't been any crisp crunching noises. The blond rolls his eyes. "Are you going to eat that shuck thing?"

"Slim it." Minho's voice is muffled. He twists and turns his face, never moving the apple.

Newt raises an eyebrow. He leans against a counter. Losing interest, the blond checks out the produce. Green beans. Its so ironic its laughable. Newt bites into one. They don't taste very good but if Frypan finds out he's been wasting food Newt will never hear the end of it.

Finally Minho lowers the apple. He flips it around to show Newt his masterpiece. Its a shaky letter M.

Blue eyes look from the apple to Minho, whose face is covered in apple juice. Newt limps over and licks Minho's cheek. "Are you trying to tell me something?"

"Am I?" Minho asks innocently. He turns his face to let the blond lick the other cheek.

Newt obliges, flicking his tongue out to drag across olive-colored skin. "I thought we weren't supposed to plan them out?" There isn't any rule actually saying they can't plan out a claim beforehand. It just usually doesn't happen that way. Newt assumes its difficult to focus on a specific shape other than mess of scar tissue while in the throes of passion.

"I don't want there to be any doubt." Minho's kisses taste like sweet apple. He slides his hands up Newt's shirt, barely brushing his fingertips against pale skin.

Newt pushes against Minho's hands to stop the tickling. Their thighs press flush together. A blush colors Newt's pale face at the wonderful sensation of blood rushing downwards.

Minho's hand tangles in his hair, making sure the blond can't pull away from the kiss. Something twitches against Newt's leg and Minho lets out a groan. His hips rock against Newt's.

The blond slides his tongue out to lick Minho's lips. Then he's rubbing his tongue against Minho's. His hands travel down to the bottom of Minho's shirt, duck beneath it, then slide up Minho's back. Newt has felt the tightening of his loins before, and the waves of heat beneath his skin but that was alone. Being with Minho is entirely different. It has his heart racing and his hips bucking.

One hand brushes over Newt's nipple.

Newt gasps, momentarily pulling away. Then he's kissing Minho again, rougher. He captures the noirette's lip between his teeth and gently sucks.

"Oh hell no!"

At the sound of an angry – and unexpected – voice, the boys jump. Blue eyes land on Frypan.

The large black chef has his hands on his hips, a hunk of raw goat leg is in one of them. "This is my kitchen and no one is going to be doing anything in it but cooking. Its bad enough I've had to listen to Ben and Alby at night. Now GET OUT!" Frypan comes towards them, shaking the goat leg. Specks of blood and meat fly all over the place.

Newt puts his arms around Minho's neck and awkwardly hauls himself onto the noirette's back. He's uncomfortably aware of his own arousal.

Minho nearly falls backwards. "You...you are lucky that I am so...strong." He regains his balance and carries Newt out of the kitchen on his back. "Have I ever told you that you're heavy?" Minho shifts Newt's position to something the blond assumes is more comfortable for him. "Also, your...uh...is kind of -"

"Shut up." The blond's face turns red with embarrassment.

Minho chuckles as he carries the recovering ex-Runner out to the gardens. "You ready for your first day of work?"

Newt is glad the noirette can't see his face. "Oh yeah. Totally. Whats more fun than weeding the garden?" The blond sighs against the back of Minho's neck. To say he has mixed feelings about going to work is an understatement. "Are you ready for going back to work?"

Minho sets Newt down on his feet. He hands the blond a basket. "Yeah. I'm getting a little stir crazy hanging around the Glade for six weeks." He pats Newt's shoulder with a gloved hand. "Hey, everything will be fine."

Blue eyes look down. He wishes he hadn't. Seeing his leg unbound is disorienting. Six weeks after the jump and his bruises have only faded to a sickly yellow-green. Not to mention that the short walk to the garden while rubbing against Minho's back did nothing get rid of his erection. The blond arranges the basket so its covering the bulge in his pants. "Just come back alive."

Minho leans forward to kiss Newt's cheek. Then he' bounding off towards the nearest Door; the Eastern one.

Blue eyes watch until Minho is out of sight. Newt falls more than lowers himself to the ground. He sighs as he looks over the plants at the rest of the garden. Zart is on the other end, pulling a heavy piece of metal behind him as he tills out a new section to plant in. He's about as strong as a horse. The other few Track-Hoes are all planting seeds and watering behind him. "Great. They might as well have made me a shuck Slopper."

Newt doesn't have an official title. Since the time he caught the beetle blade in the beginning, they immediately decided he was going to be a Runner. He is the fastest Runner in the Glade. Or was. The blond glares at his broken leg as though it decided to break on its own. He begins pulling up weeds by the base of their stems.

His basket is halfway full before Newt becomes aware of someone watching him. Blue eyes spot Ben standing a few feet away. A chill goes down Newt's spine that has a lot to do with not having heard Ben walking up. "I don't need help," Newt snaps irritably. He pulls up another weed and tosses it in his basket. The blond wipes sweat from his brow.

"I'm not helping." Ben tears out a handful of weeds and drops them in Newt's bucket.

"Sure as shuck looks like you are. I'm recovering, not buggin' helpless." Newt straightens himself and frowns at Ben. None of his weight is on his bad leg.

The brunette is ignoring him in his helpfulness. He pulls a few more weeds. "You have the entire field to get done by the time the Doors close and you ain't got much done." Ben gestures to the five foot by three foot section Newt has weeded.

"I can do it without help, thanks. Get out of here, slinthead." Newt crosses his arms. He's so angry that his hands are shaking. Just because it's his first day without Minho doesn't mean anything. Just because he fell doesn't mean he's helpless.

Ben holds up his hands. "Alby and Minho asked me to keep you company. And you aren't going to be able to finish this by yourself."

Newt feels his hold on his emotions slipping. "Well what else am I going to do but weed the shucking garden?!" He hates how angry he is. He hates how emotional this attempted suicide has made him.

For a long moment Ben stares at the blond. Then he shakes his head. "Fine. I was just trying to keep you company." He turns heel and stalks away.

Newt glances around to see who saw that.

A few of the other Gladers hastily turn away. Standing by the animal pens, Alby is the only one who doesn't look away. He's frowning at Newt, arms crosses in front of his chest.

Newt looks away and eases himself onto his knees. He pulls up weeds and puts them in the bucket. As he works under the hot sun, the blond's anger slowly drifts away. And he realizes that Ben was right about him not being able to finish his chores before the sun goes down. Even though he got a late start this is ridiculous.

The only time anyone else speaks to him is when the Greenie comes up offering water. Tim seems scared of Newt but also in awe of him. The blond wonders what rumors are going around.

Ten minutes before the Doors close, Newt stands up. He brushes the dirt off his clothes and wipes sweat from his brow. Then he limps over to the East Door where Minho entered the Maze ten hours ago. Newt stands there, shifting his weight. His body feels uncomfortable to be in. It's like being in skin that is too tight, whose energy drains too fast, and whose in too much pain.

A few minutes before the Door closes, Minho appears. He sees Newt and his pace seems to increase. The noirette doesn't stop until he's in front of Newt. "Hey." He kisses Newt's cheek.

The blond means to say hey back but what comes out is, "I don't need any bloody slintheads looking over me like I'm a shucking baby."

They walk back to the front of the Homestead together in silence. In the air is the scent of fresh meat cooking and something that is probably soup. Soup is Frypan's specialty and its probably what is on the menu tonight. It reminds the blond that he hasn't eaten all day.

Minho gives Newt a look from the corner of his eye. "Okay. Do whatever you want."

Getting his way isn't as satisfying as Newt thought it would be. The blond turns in another direction and limps away.

Minho follows him. It's painfully obvious that the noirette is going slow for the injured ex-Runner.

For some reason it just grates against his nerves. Newt turns around. It's more deliberate and not as fast as he would have liked. "Go! Just go around me! I know I'm slowing you down so just shucking go around. You don't have to be around me all the bloody time. I promised you, Minho. I'm going to bloody keep that promise."

Minho looks thoroughly unimpressed with Newt's outburst. "Slim it. I just want to walk with you." He steps forward to take Newt's hand. "I actually like being around you, slinthead."

Newt tries to limp faster, so Minho isn't so inconvenienced. It doesn't work. Slow is his current fast. It's a very depressing thought. They make it to the clearing and get bowls of goat meat soup. Together they eat in silence. Newt tries to calm the storm that is his mind but nothing is working.

Minho holds his hand on the way to the stream. He doesn't offer to help Newt strip and sheds his own clothes in seconds. The noir stands waiting for Newt to finish getting undressed then takes his hand again.

Newt follows Minho into the cool water. He holds tightly onto Minho's hand as his feet threaten to slip out from beneath him. If he falls again Newt isn't sure that he is going to be able to get back up. They sit in the middle of the stream, the water only halfway up their abdomens.

"It will be easier tomorrow." Minho promises in a low voice.

Newt can't tell who he is talking to. He wets his hair and carefully takes out the braids. From the corner of his eye, the blond watches Minho scrubbing the grime off his skin.

When they are through washing and dressing, Minho picks up Newt once more and carries him to the Homestead.

As they go up the stairs, Newt becomes aware of Minho shaking. "Are you okay?"

The Keeper nods. "Just tired." He mumbles as he starts up the second flight of stairs. With his foot the noirette pushes open the door. Minho sets Newt on the edge of the bed before going around it and collapsing onto the other side. Before Newt can even get his leg up on the bed, Minho is snoring. His trainers are still on.

Newt eases his bad leg onto the bed and rolls so that he's facing Minho. Blue eyes watch the sleeping Runner. In the dark he finds Minho's hand and weaves their fingers together. He closes his eyes but its a long time before he falls asleep.

Hours later Newt feels something brush his cheek. It feels like he hasn't slept in days. He opens his eyes a slit to see Minho leaning over him.

"Go back to sleep, love. I'll see you tonight." Minho kisses his cheek again then leaves.

Newt's heavy eyelids slide closed.

When he wakes again, Newt's room is bright. He sits up and rubs sleep from his eyes. The blond reaches for his water and takes a drink. Minho isn't in sight and it takes a moment to call up the early-morning memory. Letting out a groan, Newt stands up. For a moment he sways before gaining his balance.

The blond limps over to the door and looks down the stairs. There are no handrails. There's nothing to stop him from falling if he slips. Its a daunting situation. Several times Newt lifts his foot like he's going to actually walk down the stairs but every time he puts it back on the wooden floor. Blue eyes look down at his bare feet. Is it just him or does his ankle look a little swollen today? Movement at the bottom of the stairs catches Newt's eye.

Gally zooms in and out of view. In a second he's back. The noirette glances up the stairs, goes to leave, then looks again. "Its about time you got your lazy ass up." Gally's scratchy voice isn't mean so Newt just rolls his eyes. The large boy comes running up the stairs two at a time. When he's eye level with Newt, the blond finds his gaze being drawn to the scar tissue on Gally's neck. Gally doesn't notice where Newt's eyes are; as soon as he's level with the blond he slings Newt over his shoulder.

"W-what the shuck are doing?!" Gally is taller and broader than Minho. He doesn't seem to notice Newt digging in his nails or scrambling to take some weight off his ribs. "Gally, you shank! Put me down!"

The boy with black hair has the audacity to whistle a tune while he does an about-face. "No can do, Newt. Its time for you to get back to work."

"This isn't a sling Newt over your shoulder free for all!" Newt protests. He hooks the toes of his good foot into Gally's trousers and feels them slide down a few inches.

"Hey! I'm trying to help you. Quit your wiggling." Gally hops a few inches to the left while he tries to pull up his trousers. "I don't know why Minho likes carrying you around so much." He grumbles as he starts the decent to ground level. The noirette glances at Newt, moving his entire body and knocking Newt's freshly healed bad leg against the wall.

Newt lets out a noise like a cat being strangled. He brings his hands up to his face so he doesn't shed any tears and whines. "Put me down so I can kick your shuck ass!"

Gally just laughs. They make it down the two flights of stairs without any more injury. The noirette is surprisingly gentle when he sets Newt on his feet. "You. Me. Tonight. Before your boyfriend gets home." Gally has a wide smile on his ugly face.

Somewhat surprised, Newt nods his agreement. He didn't think Gally would actually fight him. Blue eyes watch Gally leave the Homestead. Then Newt limps into the bathroom. After using it, the blond picks up his basket from beside the door and walks to the garden. A brief inspection reveals that the weeds didn't spring back up over night but there is still a whole lot left to do.

Ben doesn't come to help him. The only person who so much as gets within ten feet of him is the Greenie, Tim, and that's only to give Newt some water. Sooner than he expected, the sun crosses the sky. Blue eyes seek out the Keeper of the Builders.

Gally is standing by the animal pens, talking to Winston and looking in Newt's direction. "You ready, Newt?!" Gally yells out. Without waiting for an answer the noirette begins walking towards Newt.

Newt steels himself. As he walks to meet Gally halfway he becomes far too aware of his limp. "I am not useless!" He mutters under his breath. A good fight is all he needs to get back into his groove.

Sometime after the two of them started walking towards each other, the other Gladers materialized. They form a circle around Newt and Gally. Alby isn't among them; just as well. The Gladers don't make a sound. They don't want to encourage the blond whose broken leg just healed.

Newt's heart races in his chest as he faces off against Gally. He balls his hands into fists, readying himself, hoping Gally won't go easy on him because of his healed injury. This will be good.

There is no warning; Gally goes to throw a punch but there is a blur and someone else is grunting.

There is a brief struggle before Minho throws Gally away from them. "You are the shuckiest shuck-faced shuck there ever was, Gally! He's on his feet for all of two shucking minutes and -"

Newt stands horrified and embarrassed while Minho goes off on Gally. It's justified but the blond can't help but be angry. He storms over between them as Gally gets on his feet. "Stop it! Just slim it down!"

Minho seems to realize his mistake then. He reaches out to touch the blond, "Newt, I-"

Newt slides out of his reach. "Don't shucking touch me." Newt shakes his head as he walks away, humiliated that his boyfriend had to stop a fight before it even started.

The other Gladers clear a path for him. There are murmurs but Newt can't hear them over the roar of blood in his ears.

The blond limps straight for the small wood that is the Deadheads. He hides himself away beside a fallen tree. If he could just will himself to die... Newt throws a rock into the forest. It doesn't hit anything except the ground and it does nothing to relieve his anger. Newt isn't surprised when Minho finds him.

Minho sits beside him, almost touching but not quite. "Talk to me."

Newt runs a hand through his long hair. "I started the fight. Because I'm weak and I hate it. And I want to be strong."

"You are strong." Minho leans his head back. "You're still alive, aren't you?"

"But I don't want to be! I want to die. I hate it here! I hate every second of every day. Every night I want to fall asleep and never wake up." Newt picks up a leaf and tears it apart. "I don't even know why I haven't tried again. I want to but something stops me from doing anything and I hate it." He refuses to look at Minho, for fear of what he might see on the Keeper's face.

"I...I don't even know what to say." Minho admits. Newt can feel him shift his weight. "Even if I hated your guts, which I don't, we can't afford to lose you, Newt." Minho falls silent.

Newt lets it stay that way. He doesn't want to talk. He doesn't want to think. He doesn't want to breathe. The blond watches a beetle blade watching them. The Creators must think this is a great show.

"One day they'll send up something that will save us both." Minho rests his head on Newt's shoulder. The noirette yawns. "Alby is planning a party tonight to celebrate you being on your feet again."

"Gally carried me downstairs today." Newt shakes his head, "And I've been crawling around like a worm in the dirt all day."

Minho sighs. "Close enough. We need a moral booster so Alby's idea is to get everyone drunk and light things on fire." He waves a hand in the air then lets it drop.

Newt thinks about it for a moment. They don't usually have parties. There hasn't been much to celebrate. "Actually that sounds kind of nice."

Newt can feel Minho smiling. "Are you going to dance with me?" He takes the blond's pale hand.

"I don't know how to dance." Newt frowns at the thought of never dancing. He feels like he's seen it but he can't quite bring the memory into focus.

He strokes the back of Newt's hand with his thumb. "That's okay. Neither do I."

The remainder of daylight is spent making preparations. It turns out that though they managed to build a life for themselves in the Glade, none of them are very good at party planning.

Frypan is in charge of feeding them, as always. However, no one wants the same thing they usually have for dinner. The younger Gladers urge Frypan to use the rest of the sugar to sweeten up fruits and breads.

While Frypan is busy with that, Gally brings out a fresh barrel of whiskey. Its a recipe that he and Frypan made together, though neither of them will tell anyone whats in it. When no one is looking Newt grabs the newest Glader – a brunette shank named Stephan – and whispers for him to sneak some sugar from the kitchen.

Newt waits patiently and unnoticed for Stephan to return. When the brunette hands over the sugar Newt rewards him with a smile. "Now get outta here, ya bloody shank." He waves the Greenie away. The blond limps over to the barrel of whiskey that has been left unattended. He shifts the lid and pours the sugar into it. If there is one thing Newt has learned, its that anything coming from Gally is bound to be bitter.

Most surprising is something that Ben brings out. They are hidden beneath a cow skin but as soon the Builder uncovers them, the other boys start chattering. Drums; four of them and all different sizes. Newt didn't know that anyone knows how to play but he isn't complaining. As long as it sounds decent, its good enough to him.

Zart and Winston are in charge of building a bonfire. The two have Greenies running around the Glade searching for stones and clearing out a patch of dirt. They chop down trees in the Deadheads and pile on scraps from old building projects. It takes two hours before they have a pile of kindling that is higher than Newt is tall. Well away from the fire is an additional pile of firewood to keep it going.

A shiver goes through Newt when the Doors close. He wishes Minho was with him but the Keeper insisted on bathing. Alone. The blond shifts on his feet, dying to get off them and desperate to keep moving. Tonight isn't going how he planned. Parties are supposed to be fun. Unsuccessfully, Newt tries to reassure himself.

Someone claps him on the back. "Hey little brother," Alby is grinning. He carries one of the smaller drums under his arm. "You should look happier when someone throws a party for you."

Newt raises an eyebrow at Alby. "First off, I'm taller than you." To prove it, the blond raises one arm and uses Alby's head as an armrest. "I appreciate it, Alby. I just..."

Alby ducks out from beneath Newt's arm. "He'll be along soon. Try to enjoy yourself in the mean time. And try some whiskey. It'll do wonders for your nerves." Without waiting for Newt to reply, the dark-skinned leader walks away. He joins a group of others.

"My nerves are fine." Yet Newt finds himself wandering back to the barrel of whiskey.

Frypan mans it, passing out mason jars full of the stuff. He gives Newt a sly grin as he hands over a jar of golden liquid.

Newt makes a face at the liquid. "Is this piss?"

"Does it smell like piss?" Frypan rolls his eyes, "I'm insulted, Newt. Have I ever served anything bad? Ever?"

Instead of answering the blond limps away. He raises the jar to his face and sniffs. Its not exactly pleasant but it definitely isn't piss. Newt takes a sip. He gags and spits half of it out. "Shoulda added more bloody sugar." The bitter taste doesn't stop him from taking another sip.

Blue eyes watch as the fire is lit. Minho is still MIA. Fire hisses and crackles its way up the kindling. Someone pours the whiskey on it. Flames burst into the air. Newt takes a step back. He glances down at the stuff in the jar then sips some more. A tiny little suicidal thought pops into his mind but it slips away less than a second later.

The sound of drums beating starts up. At first its a little awkward while they get used to it. Then the rhythms sync up. It doesn't sound bad.

Newt stares into the dancing orange flames for a few minutes. They must be about twenty feet high. When his vision starts to go black the ex-Runner tears his gaze away.

He watches Alby sitting cross-legged in the grass. The leader plays the drums while watching Ben dance. His dark eyes are glued to the Builder. Ben is doing a sensual dance that is obviously just for Alby.

Watching it makes Newt's face heat up. The next time he takes a drink its much more than just a sip.

Blue eyes observe the other Gladers dancing, eating, drinking. The more they drink, the better they seem to be feeling. The drummers are supplied with their own drink, and it alters the course of the drums. They sound more cheerful and are faster.

Jack does back flips and twists that don't seem physically possible. He leaps dangerously close to the fire then away in the next bound.

Gally and Winston are doing a dance that almost looks like a fight but they never actually touch each other. Though their expressions are serious, their eyes glitter with laughter.

Tim and Clint have their arms slung around each others shoulders – each holding a half empty jar of whiskey – and dance in circles. Their faces are lit up with smiles. Tim is dancing on his toes to match Clint's height.

Adam is begging Frypan for a refill of his mason jar. Frypan is stubbornly insisting on getting a dance out of Adam first. With an exasperated smile, Adam gives in. He does a strange little jig that could be a seizure.

Seeing his family laughing and happy makes Newt happy. Its like the dark times are behind them, like the future isn't dark too.

Someone takes Newt's whiskey from him. Minho sets the jar down out of the way. "Sorry I'm late. I got held up in traffic." Minho grins. He holds out a hand. "May I have this dance?"

With a smile Newt accepts Minho's hand, though he turns around so his back is towards the noirette. He pulls Minho against him.

Minho puts his hands on Newt's waist. Pressed flush against each other, they sway from side to side. They don't sway to the rapid beat of the drums. Minho doesn't ask for any more than that.

Newt doesn't know how long it is before he smiles over his shoulder at Minho. "I think we're doing it wrong." Its an offer in the guise of a joke and it makes Newt's heart skip a beat.

Minho rubs his cheek against Newt's. "I think you're right. We should fix that." Minho's hand moves to take his.

Newt feels a pleasant flush of warmth beneath his skin. His hand is tingling where Minho's skin touches his. In his chest his heart races. Excitement seems to pour into his veins. Tonight is the night.

To Newt's surprise, Minho leads him into the gardens. The noirette takes him deep into the corn field. There, nestled among the stalks is a small space just big enough for the two of them. Two blankets are spread out on and a lit torch is stuck in the ground. "I know its not exactly romantic, but everyone else is going to be running off into the Deadheads or to the Homestead so I figured -"

Newt wraps his arms around Minho's neck and kisses him. "Its great." They stand there kissing until Newt's leg starts to bother him. He fidgets in a vain attempt at relief.

Minho helps Newt into a sitting position. He sits beside Newt then pulls the blond closer to him. Unlike the times before, the Keeper's hands don't wander. Their kisses stay fairly innocent considering what they came out here to do.

Newt pulls away. His blue eyes search Minho's brown ones. "You okay, Minho?"

Minho smiles. It isn't his usual confident, mischievous smile. This one is almost shy. "I talk a lot of talk but I haven't, er, actually walked the walk. So to speak."

Hearing that he isn't the only one who is nervous puts Newt more at ease. Despite himself, he smiles. "Yeah. Me neither. I think communication is the key here." He kisses Minho again.

The noirette makes a noise in his throat that could be confirmation. He pulls far enough away to say, "I like the bitey thing you do." Then his lips are pressed against Newt's.

Gently Newt bites Minho's lower lip.

He feels Minho's hands in his hair, threading through it, tugging far too gently.

Newt bites a little harder.

Minho tugs a little harder on his hair.

It sends tingles down his spine that light up his nerves. The blond pulls away long enough to slip out of his harness. He helps Minho with his, smiling because its something familiar in new territory. Newt unbuttons Minho's shirt so fast he thinks he may have ripped off one of the buttons. He doesn't stop to check. He wants something he doesn't have a name for. As soon as that gorgeous olive colored skin is exposed, Newt is running his palms up and down Minho's chest.

Minho's face is flushed. Quiet sighs come from him. Half-lidded brown eyes watch Newt. "Oh, right. Sorry, I forgot I was supposed to say something." He bites his lip. "Touch me more."

Newt ducks his face to hide his smile with his hair. He kisses Minho's lips again to boost his confidence. He moves to kiss Minho's neck. Then down to the hollow of his throat. Newt trails kisses down to Minho's nipple, giving it an experimental lick.

The blond is rewarded with a full-body shiver and another quiet moan. "I wouldn't complain if you did that again." Minho's voice is low but there's a hint of a smile to it. He massages Newt's shoulders and the back of his neck.

The touch makes him arch up his shoulders then drop them again. "Shank." Newt flicks his tongue across Minho's other nipple.

Minho gives another moan. He works his way up, massaging the back of the blond's head.

Minho's fingers tangling in his hair again sends pleasant prickles down Newt's spine. Blue eyes close and he lets out a content sigh. Recalling the thing about biting, Newt tries it on the noirette's nipple.

He tries to be gentle but it doesn't stop Minho from hissing through his teeth. Minho pulls Newt away by his hair. "Ouch. No bites."

With a grin Newt releases Minho. "I'm not a dog." He kisses the wounded area. At worst it will bruise. "Now we know." They lock eyes. Newt feels his smile get wider. He sees it reflected in Minho's dark eyes. At the same time they start laughing. "Not a shuck word, Minho!" Newt gasps between peals of laughter.

Minho falls back and pulls Newt on top of him. They lay chest to chest. "Will you bark for me?"

Blue eyes roll up towards the night sky, but he complies with a "Woof."

Minho's face is practically glowing with happiness - or it could be the torches – but his eyes are starting to take on a new emotion. Lust. The next kiss they share is hungry.

It makes Newt's heart pound like a hammer in his chest. Fire burns beneath his skin and the rush of blood comes back. Of their own accord, Newt's hips grind against Minho's. Friction makes the fire within hotter.

Minho pulls Newt's hips against his, nails digging into pale skin. He rolls his hips upwards, rubbing against Newt through their trousers. The noise that comes from Minho is a cross between a moan and a growl and damn is it sexy.

Newt wants to say so but he doesn't. Instead he pulls back a little. Then he rolls his hips. At contact, heat and pressure build. A moan rolls off his tongue. It isn't enough. "Ah, Minho...?"

Minho slowly releases the breath he must have been holding. "Hm?" Brown eyes gaze into blue. "Oh," he sounds amazed, "I wish I could take a picture of you or something."

"I...What?" Newt shakes his head. Its a little hard to concentrate. "Take pictures later." His hands find Minho's belt and unbuckle it. Newt fumbles with the button then moves on to pull down Minho's zipper. He pauses then decides to take off his clothes too; it isn't fair for only one of them to be naked. The long sleeve and tank are removed and tossed aside.

Minho's hands are on his chest immediately; rubbing up to Newt's collar bones then down to his hips. The process repeats several times before Minho sits up.

Newt sighs, leaning into Minho's hands. His eyelids slide closed. He's very aware of the need between his legs.

With one hand and a lot of shoulder movements, the noirette shrugs out of his shirt. "You know this is going to hurt, right?"

Newt opens one eye. "Which part are you referring to?" Why do the best things have to hurt?

Minho kisses his cheek. "Nervous?"

Newt puts one hand over Minho's and slides it down over the bulge in his trousers. He squeezes Minho's hand around the bulge. The blond's head falls back to expose his throat to the sky. "I was going to say something really witty but I've bloody forgotten it."

Minho gives Newt a squeeze before moving his hand a few inches up to unbuckle his belt. "So do you want me to just do it or should I count to three?" The noirette kneels in front of Newt while he unzips his trousers. Minho's fingers hook in Newt's trousers then they are being pulled down to his thighs.

"Oh!" Newt's breath hitches as his cock is freed from its confines. The blond is tempted to touch himself but he resists; what would the point be doing it by himself? "Just get it over with." He turns his head so the left side of his neck is exposed.

Instead of biting Newt, Minho pulls his trousers all the way off. Then he sets to work on his own. For a few seconds they stare at each others naked bodies. Nothing they haven't already seen but its a slightly different context than any of the times before. Minho puts on leg on each side of Newt's hips and scoots close enough that they are touching. "Let me know if I have to stop."

Though he nods, Newt has no intentions of letting Minho stop. He broke his leg; this should be nothing.

Minho pushes back Newt's long blond hair so that its out of the way. The bites don't come even though with every kiss to his neck, Newt expects to feel teeth. Only when the tension has started to ease out of him, does Minho make the first bite.

It hurts. Newt can't help but whimper. He smells blood but tries to pretend it isn't there. This is not the time he wants to be having flash backs. The blond digs his nails into his thighs. He tries not to wriggle.

Newt finds himself tapping his fingertips against Minho's thigh. There has got to be something to distract him from the pain. Blue eyes settle on Minho's cock. Newt strokes Minho's cock.

The noirette pulls away with a gasp. His lips are red. Brown and blue eyes meet for a split second then Minho is finishing his work. His hips jerk with each stroke.

Its certainly interesting enough to keep Newt's mind focused. Its smooth and firm and Newt has the weirdest urges that involve his mouth. Newt runs his thumb over the tip. Blue eyes watch Minho shudder. Minho's cock jerks in Newt's pale hand.

"D-Done." This time when Minho leans back his lips aren't red. He must have cleaned the blood away.

"Wasn't so bad." Newt is tempted to touch the wound but doesn't dare. He scoots so close their cocks are pressed against each other. Newt strokes them both, shudders, and keeps at it. As he examines Minho's neck it becomes clear that he's going to have to use both hands to hold Minho. "Your turn." Newt replaces his hand with one of Minho's.

Pale arms wrap around Minho's torso. His black hair is short enough that it isn't in the way. Carefully Newt tears through the olive-colored flesh. Its more difficult than he thought it would be. Blood fills his mouth. Newt struggles to push away the memories.

"Ah, it hurts but it feels so good." Minho groans.

Newt can feel the vibrations of Minho talking. With his teeth he makes a second line.

Minho's hand starts shaking. "Y-you have a higher pain tolerance than I do."

Newt covers it with one of his own. Their fingers lace together as they stroke each other. Anything to keep Minho's mind off the pain. He makes the last cut When he pulls away it looks like a mess but it has a general N shape. Newt licks his lips clean of blood. It seems like the metallic taste isn't ever going to go away. "You alright?"

In the light of the torch Minho is looking a little pale. He grins at Newt. "I'm fine. I'm a tiger, you know."

Newt smiles back. He rubs his nose against Minho's. "'Was that what that growling was? Sounded to me more like a little pussy cat."

Minho puts a hand to his chest, his face an expression of mock shock. "What? Me? A pussy cat?"

"You gonna meow for me next?" Newt rubs the tip of Minho's cock with his thumb again.

"Meow~" Its drawn out in a moan. Lusty brown eyes gaze into his blue ones. "How do you wanna do this?"

Newt lays back. His neck stings. He pulls Minho back with him. They are dangerously close to being off the blanket. It takes some rearranging of their legs but in the end, Minho's long legs are between his. Blue eyes flit down then back up to search Minho's face.

Minho brushes back hair from Newt's face. He kisses the blond's forehead.

Newt helps to guide Minho into him. It takes a few tries and some spit before the tip of Minho's cock gets past his entrance. Newt takes a deep breath in, then lets it out.

Minho pushes deeper into him a few inches at a time until he's fully sheathed.

Newt doesn't let out a peep about how, well, uncomfortable the feeling is. He bites his lip as he waits for the pain to ease.

Minho doesn't move except to lean down and kiss Newt's forehead again. He kisses Newt's cheeks and his neck. Then he moves to kiss Newt's ear. "Sorry. I know it hurts."

"Is that so?" Newt says between his teeth. His nails are digging so hard into Minho's back, Newt can feel flesh getting stuck beneath them.

"Ben warned me it would." Minho explains. He puts a hand on Newt's forehead to brush away his stubborn blond hair. "I checked Frypan's kitchen but he was, er, out of anything that could be, uh, used as lube."

The blond jerks his head to show he understands. His entire body is tense but he can't seem to relax. I broke my leg. I just had Minho carve an M into my neck with his teeth. This is shucking nothing. Slowly Newt relaxes. He takes a few more deep breaths. "Okay. I'm good."

Minho kisses his neck again. He pulls out a few inches before slowly pushing back in. When the blond doesn't give an indication that he's in any more pain, Minho repeats the process. He goes slow, pulling out a little more each time before easing his way back in. Minho adjusts their angle.

All of a sudden pleasure rockets through Newt's body. It dances up his spine and down his legs. He trembles and throws back his head to expose his throat. "Oh, Minho," Its a groan and a sigh, "Do that again."

Minho pulls out except for his head. He hesitates a heartbeat before slamming back into the blond.

A moan pours from Newt's mouth unbidden. Pleasure explodes within him. Whatever Minho is doing it has to happen more. Newt bucks his hips up to meet Minho's next thrust. Another long moan issues from Newt, "M-more."

Its all the encouragement Minho needs. Minho's hands wander to Newt's shoulders, holding him in place. The noirette pulls out and pushes back in at a much faster pace than the first few. His thrusts are rhythmic and the sound of skin slapping against skin is familiar. Its almost the same sound their shoes make hitting the stone in the Maze while they run.

For a few seconds Newt imagines runner; then Minho slams back into him, hitting that wonderful spot that sends pleasure dancing along his nerves. His cock is aching. Newt grabs the noirette by the hips and jerks him forward. "Ah! Harder!" There is a tightening in his loins. The ache is consuming his thoughts. Pressure builds. Newt's body trembles. He pants out the word, "fas...ter..." He longs for release, to be pushed over an edge that is so close.

Minho's breathing is in pants. His thrusts lose rhythm. He pulls Newt up by his butt to change the angle again, yet he still manages to hit the blond's sweet spot. The noirette pounds into Newt, fast and hard without pulling out even half-way.

Newt senses that they are reaching the end. Almost before he's ready its there: the edge. Newt closes his eyes. He throws back his head, arches his back. His nails draw jagged lines down Minho's thighs. "A-aaahhhh..." The mind-numbing, all-encompassing pleasure doesn't last long. But it leaves him floating in a content bliss. With release, Newt goes limp, only bucking his hips once or twice more. His entire body feels like jello.

Minho follows quickly after. The noirette gives one more hard thrust. There is a spurt of warmth and Minho throws his head back to let out a loud moan. The Keeper trembles head to foot. Still shaking, he lowers himself onto Newt. Minho nuzzles the blond.

Newt lays trembling and throbbing beneath Minho. His mind is turned on but for the moment his body is spent. This was incredible. He feels Minho's heart beating against his abdomen. When he catches his breath, Newt realizes he really needs a drink. "Uh, Minho." He sounds hoarse.

Minho wraps his arms around Newt's torso. "Hmm?"

Newt runs his hands through Minho's sweaty black hair. "You didn't happen to bring anything to drink, did you?"

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <em>They are dangerously close to being off the blanket. <em>I am such a dork.**

**Well here's the first sex I've written in over a year. I hope it isn't too bad. You don't want to know the lengths I had to go to make it even a little decent. . If you aren't having fun doing it, then you are doing it wrong. This is the longest chapter and its mostly porn. Oh my gods.**

**You guys ever do that? Where you scratch someone so hard that you can feel their skin getting stuck under your nails and later you have to pick it out? Yeah. Not exactly romantic but...What the hell. **


	6. Chapter 6

Newt wakes up screaming. He's drenched in a cold sweat, entire body shaking with fear. It takes a moment to get his bearings – he's in the cornfield – and when he does he clings to Minho's sleeping form. His freshly healed leg aches. That isn't even to mention the pounding in his skull.

"You okay, Newt?" The noirette boy asks in a sleepy voice. He puts an arm around Newt's waist and snuggles against his body.

"Just a bloody nightmare." Newt shivers, trying to rid himself of the lingering fear. He doesn't remember the dream, just the terror. Pale hands run through Minho's short dark hair. The action brings comfort.

Minho sighs, "What time is it?"

"I-I don't know." Newt tilts his head one way then the other. There are no sounds in the Glade. "Before Wake Up, I think."

The noirette sits up. He holds Newt close to him, smoothing down his blond hair. "Right on time, I guess." Minho yawns. "I'm taking Gally with me today."

Newt raises his eyebrows in surprise. "Gally?" He doesn't bother to hide his doubts. "You're gonna try to replace me with _Gally_?"

Minho sighs again. He rubs his head. "You know we need another Runner. Tim and Stephan are too slow for the job. Besides, Tim is the new Slopper." He looks around for his clothes, pulls his trousers out from between the green stalks of corn.

Blue eyes search for his clothes. Newt finds his tank top at the top of a tall stalk of corn. He sighs as he gets up to get it. The blond pulls the tank top over his head. "I think Winston wants Stephan for the Slicers."

Minho works on lacing up his trainers. "If Gally doesn't work out I was thinking about trying Ben."

"You know if something happens to his shank ass, Alby will never forgive you." Newt digs his trousers out from under the blanket, wondering how they got there. He slides them on. Talking about running and knowing he won't ever be a Runner again makes his heart hurt. Recalling the fear he felt – feels – towards the Maze brings up a flare of anger. _Why does this have to happen to me? _

"My heads killing me." Minho kisses Newt's cheek.

Newt turns his face for a kiss on the lips. They share a smile when they part. He picks up a piece of leather and hands it to the Keeper.

Minho slides his arms into his shirt and buttons it up. The top button is missing. Rolling his eyes, the noirette pulls the harness over top it. "As tall as Gally is he's, uh, too heavy to be much good. But I've got to try."

Newt understands. He slips on his socks and boots. No nice running trainers for him anymore. His eyes begin to water and Newt rubs at the with his sleeves. The blond hopes Minho doesn't ask.

When he looks over, Minho is pulling the dead torch from the ground. "I can't wait to take a bath." He grins at the blond.

Minho's grin makes Newt feel like everything is right in the world. "That's my plan. I've got sweat and..._stuff _on me." Newt makes a wild hand gesture. "You could always come with me."

To Newt's disappointment, the Keeper is shaking his head no. "You know I have to run."

"Yeah, yeah. I bloody know." Newt lets the subject drop. He stands up. Pain centered around his lower back and butt has him hissing through his teeth. Bending over to pick up the blankets, Newt feels another spasm of pain. He refuses to let out a peep just in case Minho gets any klunk ideas about not repeating last night. It doesn't stop him from limping as they walk back to the Homestead.

Brown eyes watch him. "Your leg okay?"

Newt's face turns bright red. He clutches the blankets tighter to his chest. "My legs fine." From the corner of his eye, Newt sees comprehension dawn on Minho's face. Stubbornly, he looks away.

The noirette nudges him with his shoulder. "So is your -"

Hastily, Newt cuts him off, "Minho! Do not make this any more shucking awkward than it already is." They tiptoe around the sleeping boys. Most are in various states of undress. Newt is relieved to see the youngest – Tim – alone and fully clothed by the remains of last night's fire. He would have had to kick someone slinthead's ass if they had touched the Greenbean.

As they walk past various Runners, Minho wakes them up. Most of them get kicked since its before Wake Up and everyone is suffering from morning after sickness. It doesn't escape Newt's notice that Gally gets kicked hardest.

Newt climbs the stairs of the Homestead without waiting for Minho. Going up is much easier than getting back down. Still, the blond is a little winded by the time he gets to the top. Who knew that taking a six week break from running would get him so out of shape? Newt drops the blankets by the door and limps over to the bed. Sitting hurts too.

The pain kind of makes him happy. Its strange but Newt decides not to dwell on it too long.

When Minho finally joins him, he brings Alby with him. The dark leader smiles at Newt. "Its your lucky day. You get to hang out with me today, brother." He doesn't look hungover at all.

Newt grimaces. "Its all I ever wanted."

Minho walks over. He takes Newt's face in his hands and kisses him right on the lips. "See ya tonight."

Newt nuzzles Minho's hand. He hopes Alby can't see how red his face is. "Be careful."

"Always." Minho chuckles as he leaves. "Mostly."

Newt's chest seems to squeeze a little with fear. He pushes it away. Minho is strong and smart. He'll be fine. "What's on the agenda for today?"

"Its a surprise. I just got tired of watching you weed the garden. No offense brother, but you aren't made to be a Track-hoe." Alby holds a hand out to Newt.

Newt accepts it more out of curiosity than anything. He lets Alby pull him up and lead him down the stairs. The blond nearly slips a few times but Alby doesn't let him fall.

At the bottom of the stairs, Alby pulls out a necklace from beneath his shirt. "Look what Ben made me." Its two simple metal circles – one smaller than the other – on a black chord.

Newt gets the feeling that Alby is very possessive of it, so he doesn't touch it. "Good that."

Judging by the leader's smile, it was the right thing to say. "Frypan has something special he wants to try for dinner tonight." They go into one of the rooms of the Homestead. Alby picks up a hatchet and hands it to Newt. Then he picks up another for himself. He hesitates, then grabs two knives as well. "Here. You'll be needing this."

Newt accepts the small blade. It isn't as sharp as the knife he left in the Maze. He slides the small blade into a loop in his harness, made specifically for small weapons. "What kind of something special?" It dawns on Newt that he can't even remember eating yesterday.

"I dunno." Alby sighs. "Says he dreamed it up last night. I dunno how he could have done that when he was with Gally." The last part is grumbled. Alby leads the way out of the Homestead.

Blue eyes stray to the side. Frypan and Gally? That's easily the weirdest couple ever. Newt kind of thought that Frypan didn't love anything except food. And Gally hasn't been with anyone since George. "What are we going to be doing?"

They go to the edge of the Deadheads. The mostly dead little forest is looking, well, smaller than normal after the bonfire. Newt wonders what happens when they run out of trees.

Ably jerks his head in the direction of a little sapling. "That should be good for now." He allows Newt to swing the hatchet at the base of the tree. "Something to do with little bits of meat and stuff on sticks over the fire."

Newt snorts. He swings the hatchet again. Bits of bark go flying. "So he wants to celebrate hooking up with Gally?"

From the corner of his eye, Newt sees Alby shrug. "Maybe Gally will be less of a piece of klunk."

Newt straightens up to stretch out his back. "Or maybe Frypan will take the brunt of it." His next swing is harder. "Don't get me wrong or anything. Every one of you shanks deserves to be happy. I just have a bad feeling about this." The hatchet bounces harmlessly off the little trunk.

Alby is nodding. He fingers the necklace around his neck. "You deserve to be happy too, little brother."

Newt feels dread seeping into the marrow of his bones. "Alby, we're the same shucking age. We have the same Box-day and everything."

The leader smiles. Then he's shaking his head and the smile disappears. "There were thirty of us, Newt. Now we're down to four."

Newt sighs. He wipes sweat from his brow. The twisted little tree is almost about to tip over. "I know." One more swing of the hatchet has it falling onto its side.

Alby drags it over to a fallen tree. He sits on the log and takes up his own hatchet. "I'm sure Minho already told you, but we can't afford to shucking lose you." He strips the branches from the sapling.

The blond sits down in the grass. He wishes he had brought some water. "What's your bloody point?"

Alby stands up. He drops the branches and hatchet. The leader advances on Newt, grabbing him by the from of his shirt and pulling him into a standing position. "My bloody point is if you try that again and you _don't _die, you had better pray I don't find you. I will kill you." Alby's dark brown eyes hold no jest; he's serious.

Newt swallows. He's suddenly aware of how, even though the leader is short, powerful Alby is. "Did Minho tell you?"

"I found you, remember?" Alby's anger breaks. He loosens his hold on Newt's shirt, letting the blond slide back down to the ground. "I went back to get your stuff the next day. It was still there. The Grievers didn't touch it." Alby sits back down, resumes his stripping of branches. "I don't know why I went into the Maze. It was like my body was moving on its own. But I found you." Alby holds out the branches.

Newt accepts the thin branches from Alby. He begins to strip the bark from them with his knife. He can't think of anything to say, so he remains silent.

"I was really mad at you. Here we are, the last four of the original Gladers. Every one of them died unwillingly. Their deaths have kept the Greenies alive. Then you go and try to kill yourself." Alby does the same with his branches. "I don't understand why and I don't want to. Next time you feel like you don't want to live, talk to us. Let us help you. Or at least let us try to help you."

Newt cuts away at the branch until its a thin, relatively straight twig. "I feel that way all the time." He confesses, "But I don't think I can act on it...again."

Alby watches him for a long moment. "We all love you, Newt. We can't do this without you."

"Yeah. I love you shanks too." Newt drops his gaze. He starts on making a new twig.

"So how was Minho?" Alby is grinning when the blond looks up. "I saw your claims. Come on, tell me about it."

Heat colors the blond's face. Memories from the night before flash in his mind. His entire body goes hot.

"That good, eh?" Alby's grin is wider. "I'm glad you two had some fun." He touches the claim on his neck and his gaze is no longer focused on Newt.

While Alby daydreams about Ben, Newt lets himself get lost in his own head. The memory block is infuriating. No matter how hard he tries, Newt can't get past it. They each whittle three more of the barkless twigs. Pain in his thumb has Newt yelping. He drops the knife and stares at his thumb. A tiny jewel of blood forms.

"Careful." Alby warns. He doesn't seem to be upset by Newt accidentally cutting himself.

Newt sticks his thumb in his mouth and sucks on it. "Shut it." The blond growls out before Alby can say anything else.

Clanging bells ring out throughout the Glade, shattering the peace. Newt puts his hands over his ears. Blue eyes glance over at Alby before they are on their feet.

Alby's run easily outpaces Newt's limping gait. He heads towards the Box as quickly as he can. By the time the blond gets there, the other Gladers are gathered around. Newt shoves his way through to get a good look at the new boy. The other boys accept this without question. They chatter amongst themselves about what job the Greenie is going to get.

Alby and Ben pull open the cage doors.

Shivering below them is a dark-skinned boy with a buzz cut. He is on his hands and knees. His nose is enormous. His dark brown eyes stare up at them in fear. There is puke in the space between his hands.

Ben drops down the rope ladder.

Clint peers under Newt's arm at the newcomer.

Newt shifts into Tim, who in turn stumbles into Stephan and Winston. The blond rolls his eyes as the boys shove each other for space.

In the Box the dark boy has flipped onto his back. Sweat shines on his skin. His chest rises and falls quickly.

Newt frowns as he watches the beginnings of a panic attack. "Back it up, ya bloody shanks! Can't ya see the Greenbean's gonna have a bloody heart attack!" The ex-Runner isn't much for yelling so everyone shuts up when he does.

Alby glances at Newt but says nothing. He seems content to let the blond take the lead on this one.

Newt pulls Clint out from beneath his arm. "Make sure the Greenie's gonna make it." He gives the Med-Jack a shove towards the Box. "Everyone give them some shucking space."

Clint nearly goes over. He wobbles on the edge for a moment, arms flailing.

Then Adam is grabbing the back of his shirt, pulling him to safety. Adam catches Newt's eye and backs up two steps with the rest of the Gladers.

"Thanks, man." Clint flashes the other boy a grateful smile. Ignoring the ladder, he jumps down into the Box.

The dark boy jolts as though he was electrocuted.

Clint kneels beside him and murmurs something in his ear. In the shadow, his gray hair almost looks brown again.

Alby orders Ben to go through the supplies.

Losing interest, Newt turns away. He makes shooing motions with his arms so that the other Gladers know to leave the two in peace. If anyone can talk the Greenie out of the Box, its Clint.

Alby is beside him, slapping his shoulder. "Should I be worried about being shanked in my sleep?" His grin tells Newt he's teasing. "Come on, lets get those sticks to Frypan."

The boys retrace their steps to the spot in the Deadheads. Newt picks up the sticks he'd abandoned. "Minho is looking for a new Runner." The words feel like sand in his mouth and they leave a bitter taste behind. Newt's heart clenches.

The Leader nods. He walks with Newt towards the kitchen.

From a window, Newt can see Frypan bustling about. "He wants to take Ben into the Maze."

"I know." Alby's voice is quiet. He seems to pick up the pace.

Blue eyes observe Alby's broad shoulders tensing. It merely confirms that Alby doesn't want Ben in the Maze. Newt wonders what Ben wants. Does Ben know that he could die in the Maze? He looks away from the leader to the well-worn path in the grass. A few moments later, movement catches his eye.

Zart comes towards them. The large noirette is stumbling. He works at pulling a huge harness over his head. These are small details Newt notes. The one that stands out to him is that Zart's hands are covered in bright red.

Newt feels himself going pale. His legs start shaking. Before he knows whats happening, the sticks in his hands are tumbling to the ground. Unintentionally, the blond takes a step backwards. He puts his hands over his eyes but peeks between his fingers at the mess. It seems hard to breathe all of a sudden, like his throat is constricting.

Memories of the pain of breaking his leg causes Newt's chest to constrict. A tingling reminder of the pain travels through his organs and down to his leg. Its a strange, entirely unwelcome feeling.

Alby looks between Newt and Zart. He takes in the situation immediately. "Newt, its just raspberries." He puts himself between Zart and the blond, locking eyes with Newt. "They are ripe. Zart was picking them for dinner tonight." Alby puts his hands on Newt's trembling shoulders. "Its okay. Its only raspberries. Zart was picking raspberries."

Newt nods as the information is processed. Raspberries. It makes sense. It happened last year too. The Track-Hoes always make a mess of harvesting the red berries. "Raspberries." He repeats. A ghost of a memory has him taking another step backwards; the feeling of the bone in his leg breaking.

"Raspberries." Alby confirms, "Its okay, Newt." His brown eyes are concerned but firm.

Newt covers his face with his hands again but for an entirely different reason; embarrassment. Blue eyes watch Zart walk away without knowing what just happened. Once again, Newt feels weak. Less Newt, somehow, than he was before he jumped. He stoops down to pick up the sticks.

Alby walks beside him, staying between the blond and Zart the entire time to the kitchen. He offers no comforting words.

Newt isn't surprised; none of them have had to deal with something like this before. None of them know how to react.

When Frypan sees Newt, he walks over and shoves a strawberry in his mouth. "You look like you need these." The hairy chef takes the sticks from Alby and Newt, a wide grin splitting his face. "This is perfect." He winks at them, "Just wait until you see dinner tonight."

Alby and Newt exchange glances. Newt is more curious about this new method of...whatever it is Frypan is doing. Its something to get his mind off Zart and blood the color of raspberries. "Mind if I help ya out?"

Frypan looks surprised. "I suppose you could." He glances at Alby, who gives a discreet nod before slipping out of the kitchen. "Alright then, I've already got the chicken cut up. You can wash the zucchini." A large finger points towards some dark green things on the counter top.

Newt walks over and takes them to the sink. He runs them under cold water, washing off the dirt and plucking off a few of the stray fuzzy leaves. He washes his hands as well. The task is over with too soon and before he knows it, Frypan is taking the clean zucchini from him.

"Just give me a minute here, Newt. I've got to cut them up." Frypan's butcher knife is a blur. The sound of it against the chopping block fills the room. "I've got mushrooms in that bowl over there." The noirette jerks his head in the direction of the fridge.

Newt picks up the bowl and stands holding it awkwardly. He feels like he's more in the way than anything.

"Put that by the chicken. You need to boil some water to wash those sticks in. Wouldn't want anyone to eat something disgusting." Frypan chuckles to himself. Its a running joke that the chef's food is bad though it is actually pretty decent. Frypan is the only one who can actually cook, sad as it is to say.

The blond sets the bowl of sliced mushrooms down beside the chicken. He puts some water in a tall pot and sets it on the stove. Newt stares at the dials for a moment before putting the heat on high. Its the wrong burner. He tries again, getting it right the second time. With nothing left to do, blue eyes watch Frypan scoop the zucchini into a third bowl. Frypan looks so very at home in the kitchen. It makes Newt's heart ache to think that he doesn't have a place like that. Not even running made him feel very comfortable; though it was certainly better than weeding the garden and stripping the bark from twigs.

Frypan checks the boiling twigs. With a clap of his hands, the Keeper of the Cooks turns around. "Now comes the fun part that you get to do." The dark-skinned chef takes the twigs out of the tall pot. He sets them on a clean spot of counter.

"But I was having so much fun already." Newt replies with a grin. He turns to face the counter and ingredients.

"Repeat after me: chicken, mushroom, zucchini." Newt does as asked. "Put them on the sticks in that order. Leave about an inch and a half of space on each end. Then set them right here," Frypan gestures to another clean spot on the counter top.

Without questioning it, Newt begins to slide the raw chicken onto the end of a stick. The chicken has a slimy texture. He slides it almost to the other end then adds a mushroom. He does the same with the zucchini. Frypan is bustling about the kitchen, not speaking. The work is repetitive and leaves Newt's mind free to wander.

Newt wonders if this is what his life is going to be like. Just helping out the Keepers whenever they need him to do something for them. An errand boy. Its almost worse than being a Slopper. He doesn't like to think of what would happen if he is needed to do a chore for a Bagger.

"You've been awfully quiet, Newt." Frypan says as he sets a rectangular cake pan on the counter top. Its filled with some sort of sauce. The noirette picks up one of the sticks with food on it then rolls it in the sauce.

Newt sets another one down in its place. "I've had a lot on my mind lately."

Frypan nods. "I know, man. We all have. But its nothing some good food can't fix."

Trust Frypan to think food is the cure to everything. The blond represses a sigh. "Do you think food can fix me?" He didn't mean to say that. Newt wishes he could retract his words. He bows his head.

"I don't see that there's anything particularly wrong with you. Except you're too skinny. Don't eat enough." The Keeper bumps their shoulders together. "Falling must have been scary."

The reminder sends a chill over Newt's skin. He wants to rub his arms but doesn't want to get raw chicken juice on them. "Something like that." He murmurs, half hoping that Frypan didn't hear.

If he did, the Cook makes no comment. "Wait until Minho finds out you cooked him dinner." Frypan has a wide grin on his face.

Newt's face heats up. "Shuck you." But he's got a smile on his face.

"He's lucky to have you."

Before Newt can respond, there is a yell from outside. It makes Newt's blood run cold.

"Alby! Zart!" Its Minho's voice.

Frypan catches Newt's eye. They abandon the food. Though they start off together, Frypan easily out-distances the blond. Newt only has a moment to realize that the sun is still up and it isn't anywhere nears time for the Runners to be back.

By the time Newt gets to the Door, Zart and Alby are reliving Minho of Gally.

Gally's head rolls when he is transferred over. He's too pale but there isn't any sign of a wound. Newt realizes he must have been stung. Zart is quick to take Gally to the Homestead, hollering for Clint all the while.

Alby stays behind.

Although Minho is very strong, Gally is twice as big as the Runner. Newt rushes to Minho's side to let the Keeper lean on him. He feels Minho's panting against his neck, blowing Newt's long golden hair away with every breath. Minho reeks of sweat.

"What happened?!" Alby demands as Newt struggles to hold Minho's mostly dead weight. He glances between the two then shakes his head. "Newt, he's taking your bed. You're to officially to return to sleeping with everyone else."

Newt shrugs. He can live without the comfortable bed although his body might be sore for a few nights as he gets used to sleeping on the ground again.

"He was...stung." Minho stumbles over his own feet.

A chill goes down Newt's spine. Blue eyes turn to look at the Homestead. Though he and Gally aren't the best of friends, they are civil. Looks like that's going to change now. Newt can't stand to be around the ones who have been stung.

Alby sighs as he pinches the bridge of his nose. "Okay. Newt, take care of Minho. I'm going to help with Gally." With that, Alby takes off at a jog towards the Homestead.

Newt leads Minho to their tree and helps him sit. He kneels in front of the Keeper, looking at his face. Its flushed red, covered in sweat, and his brown eyes are unfocused. Newt wonders how long he had to haul Gally through the Maze. The blond unhooks his water from his belt and hands it over.

Minho takes a swig, then pours more onto his head. He leans back, almost gasping for air. A minute passes before he takes another drink.

Newt waits until the noirette has drunk his fill before repeating Alby's question, "What happened?"

Minho shakes his head, spraying water all over the place. "We turned a corner and there was a Griever. It stung Gally before running off. It was the shuckiest thing I've ever seen."

Newt shakes his head in bewilderment. A Griever sting during the day isn't unheard of. Sometimes it seems like they just want to sting and run. However, they don't just sting one person and leave the other unChanged. "That's weird." Its all he can think of to say.

Minho offers the blond a smile of bemusement. Then he closes his eyes. "I take back everything I ever said about you being heavy."

Newt snorts. "Thanks Minho. I'm glad you no longer think I'm fat."

"Of course you aren't fat. Beside, muscle weighs more than fat." Minho hands the empty canteen back to the blond.

Newt runs his hands down his sides. "You know I've been watching my figure."

"You should probably drink less whiskey then." Minho smiles without opening his eyes.

"No thanks." Now that he knows his mate is fine, Newt stands up. "I'm going to check on Gally." He kisses Minho's sweaty cheek before hobbling over to the Homestead. He hopes they got the Grief Serum into Gally.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: Sorry this is late.<strong>

**I wanted Newt to interact with people other than Minho. **


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